Trials
by PugNTurtle
Summary: After Sam dies, Catherine’s life starts spiraling out of control. She and Lindsey are constantly fighting; a scathed reporter is out for revenge; and one case may just be the breaking point. YoBling!
1. Tremors

Title: Trials

Author: Katie

Rating: M/PG-13

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of the characters that are in this story. If I did, I would have been sitting next to Marg Helgenberger at Wrestlemania 21. No harm or infringement is meant.

Spoilers: Built to Kill 1 & 2 (Season 7) though anything before that is fair game as well.

Pairings: Catherine/Warrick – YoBling!

Summary: After Sam dies, Catherine's life starts spiraling out of control. She and Lindsey are constantly fighting; a scathed reporter is out for revenge; and one case may just be the breaking point.

Author's Note: This is my new CSI story…wow, I'm so intelligent and creative with these author's notes. Anyways, this is just something that popped into my mind after watching Built to Kill too many times. I love those two episodes. I'll stop rambling now. Thanks to HappyHarper13 for her assistance with the story idea. Believe me when I say that this whole thing would have been much different had it not been for her wonderful assistance and suggestions. This is unbetaed, but I like to think that I did well in English and all, but I can't catch everything, so don't lecture me if a comma is in the wrong place, thanks. Oh! One more thing!!!! Pleaaaase read and review! I like to know what my readers are thinking, so if you don't like the story or something doesn't make sense, then let me know. I'm a big girl and can take criticism, trust me.

Enjoy, homies, and let me know what you think!

~/~

_Her hands were shaking. _

_Her heart was pounding. _

_Her head was spinning._

_All that she could see was the blood on her hands. _

_His blood. _

_Her father's blood. _

She blinked, the red that had stained her hands less than three hours ago no longer there, yet she still itched to go the bathroom and scrub her hands raw.

_Again._

She didn't want to stand up, though.

Catherine Willows was afraid she was going to pass out.

She was somewhat glad that she was sitting on the bench in the locker room rather then standing in the lab, or walking down the hall. Still, as she sat on the bench, Catherine was worried that she wasn't going to make it through the night.

Her knees were shaking so badly that she was afraid that her legs would collapse beneath her if she were to try to stand. Her hands, clean of the blood that her wavering mind still saw, were trembling, making Catherine doubtful that she would be able to control the steering wheel even if her legs carried her to the Denali or her brand new Mustang convertible.

The very same Mustang that she bought to replace her totaled car when Lindsey was kidnapped.

_Lindsey. _

Catherine struggled to keep her tears at bay, wondering what she was going to tell her daughter – and mother, for that matter – about Sam.

How could she tell them that their beloved Sam Braun had been brutally gunned down in an act of violence brought on by hate, greed, and anger?

The very same hate, greed, and anger that had left Catherine naked in a shady hotel room and Lindsey kidnapped.

An involuntary tear slipped down Catherine's cheek, and she closed her eyes for a long time in an attempt to fight the rest of them.

When she finally opened her eyes, Catherine noticed that she was still wearing Jim's pinstripe shirt. Her plum top, forever stained with Sam's blood, had been taken into evidence. She wasn't sure where Brass had come from, or for how long he had been at the crime scene before he stood next to her, quietly telling her that the crime scene investigator's needed to take her shirt. She had stared at him, not comprehending what Jim was saying before finally just taking the extra work shirt that he offered, her years of training kicking in. Within seconds, she had stripped her shirt and donned Jim's, not even caring that she pulled off her shirt in a public place for everyone to see her bare upper body only clad with a bra.

It had taken her several moments to button up the shirt. Catherine's fingers were trembling, and when she was finally finished, Jim placed his hands over hers, halting the movement that Catherine made to roll up the way-too-long sleeves. He did it for her, his fingers working quickly to expose her hands and arms through the material of his shirt.

Jim had stared at her critically as Catherine literally swam in his shirt. She wasn't a big woman, barely scraping five-foot-four, and that was in heels. She couldn't weigh more than 120 pounds, and that was probably being generous. But still, as she struggled to stand on her feet, her entire body shaking with tremors, Jim couldn't help but be worried about Catherine.

_Was she eating okay? Was everything all right at home? Was she sleeping? _

Those were the questions that Jim had for Catherine as he stared at her in the shirt that came down to just above her knees. Nevertheless, he simply took her elbow and took her aside to ask her the difficult questions…_What happened? Why had she gone to visit Sam? What did she see? Did Sam say anything before he died?_

Catherine blinked, drawing herself from her thoughts. She didn't want to think of the events from four hours previous. All she wanted to do right now was change her clothes, get through her shift, and go home to her daughter. Thank God Jim had already promised her that he would tell Lily about Sam…that was a conversation that she didn't want anything to do with, either.

A quick glance at the clock on the wall told Catherine that she had been staring at her locker for forty-five minutes. "Shit," Catherine cursed. Willing her knees to stop quaking, she stood, stumbling to her locker. She braced herself against the one next to her. Catherine fumbled with the lock for a minute before finally managing to unlock it.

Her body moved on autopilot as she pulled her pants off without removing her heels and threw them into her locker. She tugged on a pair of jeans, surprised at the looseness in the waistband. The stress from the last few days must have taken its toll on her, Catherine realized. Searching for a belt, she sighed when she saw that she didn't have one in her locker and that she would be resigned to tugging up her pants repeatedly through the course of her shift. Well, either that or she could make herself a belt out of the crime scene tape…

Catherine winced as she pulled off Jim's dress shirt, the muscles in her back protesting the movement. She hung the shirt carefully and made a mental note to wash it before she returned it to him. Catherine yanked on a form fitting hunter green shirt. The shirt, coupled with the too-big jeans wasn't the ideal outfit that Grissom and Ecklie wanted their CSI's donning, but it was the best that she could do at the moment, considering her top had been taken into evidence and her shirt didn't match her pants...

Catherine slammed her locker shut a little harder than necessary, resting her head against the cool metal. The last thing that she wanted to do was work, but she was here.

She didn't want to go home to face the reality of what had happened to Sam yet.

She forced her legs to move, and they automatically carried her to the break room, where Grissom was finishing handing out assignments for the evening. "And...Greg, you're with me on a 419," his voice rang out as he came to the last paper in the pile.

"Who am I with?" Catherine's soft voice seemed loud in the room as all eyes swung towards her. Shocked looks came across the face of her coworkers that Catherine had actually shown up to work despite losing her father mere hours before. Word traveled fast, Catherine thought to herself.

"Catherine, I wasn't expecting you here," Grissom spoke up first, stepping towards Catherine.

"Well, I'm here, Gil," she answered, her eyes desperate.

"Cath…" he trailed off, looking at her critically. It was obvious she hadn't been sleeping well, if at all, as the dark circles under her eyes betrayed the wide-eyed alert look she gave him. She looked thinner, too, Grissom couldn't help but notice. He watched as she subtly tugged on her jeans, not meeting his eyes for a brief second. Grissom stepped closer, bringing his lips to her ear as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry about Sam," he told her, his voice so soft that only she could hear him.

_Please don't do this to me, Gil, _she silently pleaded, fighting to control her emotions. "Who am I with?" she repeated, ignoring his last statement.

Catherine noticed the way everyone's gazes seemed to suddenly be avoiding her. Greg was fascinated by the coffee pot, Sara and Nick were enamored with their shoes, and Warrick was staring at some point past her left shoulder. She locked gazes with him, the tears that were threatening to spring to her eyes suddenly making an appearance.

"I…come on, Catherine. Let's go talk in my office," Grissom finally said after a long, awkward pause. "Greg, I'll meet you at my truck, okay?"

"Okay," Greg replied softly, not sparing a second glance at Catherine as he ducked by her in the doorway. Sara and Nick followed suit, neither of them bothering to give Catherine a look either. Warrick trailed by slower, giving his friend a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.

His light eyes met hers for the second time in seconds, and Catherine had to choke back a sob. There was so much intensity in his gaze. "Call me if you need anything, okay, Cat?" he asked softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. Warrick felt terrible at how he had reacted when he was looking at the picture of Lindsey. He knew that Catherine had been frantic about finding her daughter, and the only thing he could think to say to Catherine was to instruct her to get a cup of tea. Even when they had found Lindsey, Warrick's harsh voice still ran through his mind as he all but chastised Catherine about not touching Lindsey in order to get a conviction. Warrick could only imagine how hard it had been for Catherine to kneel before her daughter for agonizing seconds, not being able to make contact until he had gotten the tape off Lindsey's mouth and hands.

"I will," Catherine finally answered, covering his hand with hers for a moment before turning her eyes to Gil.

He looked as if he had aged ten years in the last day. Catherine wasn't sure if it was because of the new case that he had stumbled upon or the fact that she had suffered a personal trauma. She silently followed Gil to his office, standing in the doorway and crossing her arms as Gil leaned against his desk.

"Gil, please don't do this to me!" Catherine blurted out before he could even get a word out. "I can't go home and sit there and stare at the walls. I don't _want _to do that, Gil. I need something to preoccupy my time so I can get my head around this and figure out how I'm going to tell Lindsey that her grandfather, her beloved Pop-Pop, was brutally murdered. If you don't put me in the field, then I'll go lock myself in my office and do paperwork but I am not leaving this building or going home for eight hours," Catherine rambled on. Gil stared at her bleakly as her brave façade was broken, and the tears streamed down her cheeks. "God damn it," Catherine swore, jamming her palm under her eyes as she whirled away from Gil, facing the door as she fought her emotions. She pounded her fist against her thigh in frustration before turning back to Gil.

He closed his eyes, exhaustion written across his face. "Catherine…I'm so sorry for your loss," he began quietly once he forced his eyes open. "And while I'm doing this against my better judgment, I'm not going to send you home. We can always use more eyes at the scene."

Catherine nodded slowly. "Thank you, Gil."

"However…if I see fit that I need to take you off the case, I will," Gil continued gently. "This case is about the victim. If you start to get too emotional, I'm sending you home."

"Okay," Catherine said softly.

Gil took a deep breath, pushing off his desk. "Come on, Cath. Get your kit and I'll brief you in the truck."

It took every ounce of her willpower not to sob a response. Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded and rushed out of his office, silently making her way to her own office. She ignored the looks of sympathy that people shot her way, unlocking her office hastily. Catherine blindly located her kit in the dark before retreating, not bothering to lock her office back up. Her purse was locked safely in her locker, and there was nothing in her office that she was worried could be stolen. Add to that, her file cabinets and desk drawers were also locked.

She made her way into the parking lot, noticing that Grissom and Greg were leaning up against the Denali. Catherine almost wanted to laugh, as they both looked extremely uncomfortable as they waited for her. Nevertheless, she offered them a brave smile as she walked up to them. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" Catherine asked with what she hoped was a soothing tone. The smile she offered didn't quite reach her eyes, but she was making an effort to put her colleagues at ease.

"Sure, Cath," Gil answered, returning her smile. "You want to drive?"

"No, I'm fine," she answered with a wave of her hand. "I'll ride in the back, Greg."

"Are you sure?" Greg asked. It was unwritten CSI law that the person with the most seniority always rode shotgun. However, tonight, Catherine was afraid that one sideways glance would cause Grissom to stop the car and head right back to the lab.

"Yeah, Greg, it's fine," Catherine said, trying to keep the impatience out of her tone. Ignoring the look that Greg and Grissom exchanged, she swung her kit into the open trunk, reaching up on her toes to shut the trunk. "You guys ready?" Catherine asked, desperation laced in her voice. She needed to get away from the lab and the memories of the last few hours. Less than four hours before, Sam had died in her arms. She needed something to block her mind from the pain that was filling her heart.

Not waiting for a response, she pulled herself into the Denali, buckling herself in before Grissom or Greg even had a chance to get into the truck. Seconds later, they entered, and the trio was on the way.

"What do we have with the case?" Catherine asked, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen in the space of the large vehicle. She knew that Greg wanted to say something about Sam, but just didn't know how to bring up the subject. So instead of dancing around the white elephant in the truck, she simply turned their attention to the case at hand.

Grissom cleared his throat. "The victim was discovered by her teenage daughter, lying dead on the floor of her living room. She had been choked with the wire from the telephone," he told Catherine.

She sucked in a deep breath, her thoughts immediately going to Lindsey and how terrifying it must have been for the girl to discover her mother dead. As a member of law enforcement, she knew that her risks to be attacked or stalked by a suspect were high…hell, it had happened to her once…and the thought of Lindsey discovering her lifeless body sent chills of fear and guilt down her spine.

Choking back a sob, Catherine closed her eyes and asked, "Any suspects?"

Her voice still came out strangled, and Grissom's eyes shot to the backseat. Catherine forced her eyes open, keeping her gaze steady and emotionless as she met his eyes. Grissom maintained eye contact for a few moments before watching the dark, desolate road again. "I don't know yet," Grissom finally answered. "We're only about ten minutes away, though. We'll know soon enough."

Catherine nodded wordlessly, looking out her window. An uncomfortable silence filled the truck once again, but no one even bothered to attempt to break the silence.

Long minutes seemed like hours before Gil finally pulled up to a house. The dark night was broken by the red and blue lights that were dancing across houses and trees. Neighbors sleepily stood outside their houses, wondering what could possibly be disturbing the peace of the night.

Grissom barely had the car in park before Catherine jumped out of the Denali, not wanting to be in the stifling vehicle for any longer. She made her way over to Brass and a couple of uniforms. "What do we have here?" she asked, the authority in her voice betraying the quaking of her heart.

Brass reeled, his hard eyes registering surprise at seeing Catherine standing in front of him. "I…Catherine, what are you doing here?" Brass asked.

"Working," Catherine answered simply, sensing Grissom and Greg behind her. Brass' eyes shot over Catherine's right shoulder, and she knew without looking that Grissom had shaken his head slightly. She continued staring at Brass, repeating, "What do we have here?"

"The uh…" Brass cleared his throat uncomfortably. "The victim is a forty-two year old woman. Her name is Christine Danielson. Her daughter…" Brass paused as he flipped through his notes for a name, "Lillian Danielson, claims that she just got home from the movies and found her mother dead on the ground."

"How old is the daughter?" Catherine asked.

"Fifteen," Brass responded.

Catherine reeled at this. _She's the same age as Lindsey._ Nevertheless, she kept her face emotionless. She didn't want to give Grissom any reason to take her off the case.

"Where is the victim?" Grissom questioned.

"She's in the living room. We've actually run into a little problem."

"What's that?" Greg spoke up.

"The daughter is holding her mother's body and is refusing to let go. She's grief stricken, and won't let anyone near her mother," Brass told them. "My officers don't want to try to disengage the girl because they are worried about destroying crime scene evidence."

"Where are they?" Catherine asked before Grissom could say anything.

Brass gave her a wary look, managing to not flick his gaze back to Grissom. "They're right through the doorway there," he informed the trio.

Catherine nodded, determinedly making her way to the door, only to be halted by someone's hand on her arm. She looked back, not surprised to see Grissom staring intently at her.

"Catherine," he started, trailing off.

She gaze him a steely look, shaking his hand off her arm. "Grissom. I'm not going to do anything rash. I promise. I just want to get a hand on the scene," she told him. "So you can either do the same, or you can prevent me from doing my job."

Surprise registered on Gil's face at her straightforwardness. Normally, he would dress her down for her attitude, but seeing as everything she had been through the past week was fraying on her nerves, he cut her some slack. Gil nodded, warning in his eyes to cool her jets.

"Thank you," Catherine said softly before turning back and entering the house.

She made her way down the short hallway towards the living room. A flash of white ran before Catherine's eyes as she looked at the young girl cradling her mother's lifeless body, tears streaming down her face.

The walls seemed to be closing in around Catherine, the air suddenly thick with heat.

_She was back in the parking lot._

"_No! Sam, look out!" she managed to scream. Sam whirled around, his body on autopilot as he stepped in front of Catherine, shielding her from the bullets that erupted from Joe Hirschoff's gun. Sam's body jerked, falling backwards into Catherine._

_She struggled to hold him up, falling to the ground under his weight. She was dimly aware of one of Sam's bodyguards shooting Hirschoff, focusing only on the man that was cradled in her lap. _

"_No! Somebody call an ambulance!" she yelled. Catherine pressed her hands against Sam's wounds, watching the life trickle from his eyes at her futile attempt to save his life. _

"_Sam! Don't die on me."_

A hand on her arm jerked Catherine back to the present. Wild eyes met Gil's, and he looked at her, a disapproving look mixed with concern etched on his features. "Catherine," he began, only to be cut off when she violently pulled her arm away.

She didn't speak to anyone as she walked up to the pair, kneeling down before Lillian and Christine. "Hi, Lillian," Catherine began. "My name is Catherine."

"I don't care who you are!" Lillian's voice was bordering on hysterical, her arms wrapped around her mother's body. "You're not touching her!"

"Honey, I'm not going to touch her just yet. But we need to process the scene and try to find some clues that will tell us who hurt your mother, okay?" Catherine told Lillian. "So can you let go of your mother?"

"I don't want to!" Lillian sobbed. "She's all that I have! I have nothing left!"

"Honey, it will be okay," Catherine tried to reason. "It will take time, but you will one day be strong."

"How do you know?!" Lillian yelled at Catherine. "You don't know me! You don't know what I'm going through! How could you possibly know?!"

Lillian's words stung Catherine, and she had to swallow slightly to keep herself from breaking down. "Lillian…I just lost my father a few hours ago," Catherine admitted softly, her voice kept low so that only the teenager could hear what she was saying. "So I think that I can relate to your feelings right now." Lillian snapped her tear filled gaze to Catherine's. The older woman's eyes shone with unshed tears, and she offered a small smile. "My friend David over there is going to look at your mom, okay?" she asked, nodding her head towards David Phillips, who was watching the scene before him sadly. He had heard about Sam and felt nothing but respect and sympathy for Catherine. "The sooner we look at your mom, the sooner we can try to figure out what happened to her and catch the person who did this," Catherine continued.

Lillian stared up at Catherine, her eyes filled with pain. "You're not going to find the person," Lillian said softly, numbness spreading across her body. "You won't find them. You people never do! This isn't television or the movies! This is real life and you won't ever bring my mom justice!"

"Come on, honey," Catherine coaxed, placing a clammy hand on Lillian's arm. "Just let her go."

With that, Lillian suddenly let go of her mother, launching herself towards Catherine. She braced herself at the sudden impact, falling to her backside, shocked when the young girl gripped at her CSI vest, sobbing.

She wasn't sure what to do, looking up at Grissom and Greg with a surprised look on her face. They simply stared back, the younger of the two finally making a move to pull Lillian off of Catherine. She simply shook her head, however, hesitantly rubbing Lillian's back. "It's okay, Lillian," Catherine soothed. "It's okay."

It was going to be a long night.

~/~

Catherine tiredly drove home, the adrenaline of the night wearing off as she maneuvered her car through the back roads that led to her house. She had called Lindsey's school a little while ago and told them that Sam had died, and as a result, Lindsey wouldn't be into school today and possibly the next couple of days. The officials at the school extended their sympathies and told Catherine to inform them if she needed anything.

Her hands shook as she drove, the inevitable of telling Lindsey about her grandfather inching closer with each mile that she drove. Catherine felt ill and dizzy, and for a moment she wondered if she was having a delayed reaction to the car accident just days before. After all, she had whacked her head against the steering wheel before the airbag deployed, as evidenced by the gash at her hairline.

Catherine swallowed slightly, realizing that she was terrified of telling Lindsey what had happened to Sam. She knew that her daughter loved her grandfather and with the trauma Lindsey had suffered the last couple days, she wasn't going to take the news well.

Guilt washed over Catherine as she thought back to the accident. She was pretty sure that she hadn't blacked out, but the mere seconds that passed between the actual crash and the two thugs taking Lindsey seemed unimaginable. Catherine's hands gripped the steering wheel as she wondered what kind of mother allowed her daughter to be kidnapped…

A car horn honking caused Catherine to jump. She glared in the rearview mirror, punching the gas of her new sports car and tearing out into the intersection, leaving the driver of the pickup truck that she had apparently offended in a cloud of smoke. She hadn't even realized she had stopped, her body moving on autopilot. Catherine flinched slightly, her eyes shooting to the left.

No matter what she told anyone, the accident had shaken her. When she was driving, Catherine found herself glancing out the windows continuously, searching for cars that were aimed at her vehicle. At any second she expected her body to be jerked as if she were on a roller coaster ride after someone t-boned or rear ended or broadsided her car.

Catherine felt like her head was going to explode by the time that she got to her house. She eased her stiff body out of the Mustang, stretching a little as she stared at her house. Lindsey sat inside, waiting for her mother. Catherine had called Lindsey earlier and told her that she wasn't going to school. Despite Lindsey's protests and questions, Catherine had firmly informed her that she would explain what was wrong when she got home.

Every muscle protested as Catherine made her way into her house. Her back, ribs, and neck still ached from the jolt that had occurred when her car was struck. Her knees creaked with every step, the many years of squatting and standing at crime scenes…not to mention dancing…finally seemingly catching up to Catherine. She silently resolved to herself that she would purchase some non-heeled shoes after Sam's funeral in an attempt to salvage her calves and kneecaps. Heels gave her some advantage when going face to face with uncooperative suspects, and Catherine hated to give that up. She also loved the way that her legs looked longer thanks to heels, and she felt sexy as she sauntered up to a crime scene, but vanity be damned if she was going to have double knee replacement surgery before she was fifty.

With a slight sigh, Catherine set her keys down on the kitchen table, her trained ears picking up on the fact that the television was playing. Saying a quick prayer that God would help her through telling Lindsey what had happened to Sam, she made her way into the living room. "Hey, Linds," Catherine called tiredly.

Lindsey was sitting on the couch, watching the news. She brought her gaze to Catherine's, glaring at her mother, unshed tears shining in the younger Willows' eyes.

Confused, Catherine looked at the television…

…And the headline that crawled across the bottom was enough to send a cold chill down Catherine's spine.

_Casino Mogul Sam Braun Murdered_

~/~

End 1/?


	2. Trouble

Whoa! I must say that the reaction to the first chapter was awesome, and I appreciate each and every one of them! Thank you to Chris (I will call you on the phone at NOC if "marg-ing" is going on), YoblingDramioneLover, Moochiecat, csiaddict2, PurpleButterfliesRock, El Gringo Loco, wendysam, BraunGirl, cutiehooty, connieLover, Caroline, lil Kass, and Brillows4Ever for reviewing! I really appreciate all of your kind words. Thanks also to the folks who have added me to their author alert/story alert/favorite story list. It is much appreciated and feel free to drop a word about what you think at some point. =)

Here's chapter two! Be prepared for some emotional Catherine come the next few chapters…hell, the whole story actually. This is a really dark fic, no doubt about it. And again, this is unbetaed, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Enjoy!

~/~

Catherine's eyes remained focused on the television before she finally flicked her gaze back to Lindsey. Her daughter had a mixture of looks on her face…confusion, anger, hurt, betrayal.

Catherine wiped a hand across her brow, unsure of what to say. "Lindsey…" she started, trailing off immediately, the words not forming in her mind. Suddenly, Catherine felt as if she had aged twenty years, her stiff body weary as she struggled to hold herself up.

Lindsey shot to her feet, tears streaming down her face. The cut on her lip from the car accident mere days ago was almost healed, but it still stood out against her red face. "How could you?!" Lindsey wailed. "How could you let him die?"

Catherine blinked, shock coming across her features. "Lindsey-"

Lindsey closed the short distance between Catherine and herself, her face inches from her mother's. "I saw the report! They said that he died in your arms! You did nothing, mom! How could you just sit there and let him die without doing anything?" Lindsey yelled.

"I…I tried to save him, honey! I did," Catherine protested, completely shocked by her daughter's reaction. She knew that Lindsey would have been upset, but she had no clue that she would have shifted the blame to her. "It was too late."

"Too late?" Lindsey repeated. "You're full of it, mom!"

Catherine stepped closer to Lindsey, using her height advantage to glower down at her daughter. Lindsey had been sprouting like a wildflower over the last year, and it wouldn't be long before Lindsey towered over Catherine, especially if she took after Eddie's genes. Catherine figured that she might as well use her height to her advantage for the time being. "I know that you're upset, Lindsey-"

"You have no clue what I'm feeling!" Lindsey cut off Catherine. "You don't even care-"

"I do too care!"

"No you don't! If you cared, you wouldn't have gone to work and let me stay at home for hours by myself when my grandfather was dead!" Lindsey shouted.

"I didn't want to wake you-"

"You didn't want to face me! You're a coward!"

Catherine gritted her teeth, wondering how a potentially difficult conversation had gotten so out of control. "Now listen to me young lady!" she started.

"No, listen to me, mom!" Lindsey yelled. "I hate you! You let Grandpa die and you let me get kidnapped! You're the worst mother ever!"

With that, Lindsey shoved past Catherine, her shoulder forcefully bumping her mother's as she took off up the steps. Moments later, Catherine heard the sound of the door slamming.

Catherine wasn't sure how long she stood there, simply staring at the television. The newscaster was now talking about a couple who had won a million dollars on their honeymoon, a feel good story that should have made the viewer smile.

_Catherine wasn't smiling, though. _

She sat down with a sigh, leaning her head against the back of the couch. Numbly, she stared at the television, her ears focused on the sobs coming from upstairs and not what the newscaster was speaking about.

Minutes turned to hours, and Catherine found herself bleakly staring at the television. The morning news turned into Maury Povich, Maury turned into Jerry Springer, and Jerry turned into some home style show that the network apparently thought that people cared about. Catherine's eyes were glassy as she stared at the television screen, not focusing as the hosts bantered awkwardly. Her thoughts were on Sam dying in her arms, almost losing her daughter, her career…everything but ideal closet space or whatever the fuck the hosts were droning on about.

A knock at the door startled Catherine. She jumped, her face swiveling to the door. A snarl adorned her lips, and for a brief second she was content to tear open the door and rip into the reporter that she was sure was there to ask her questions about Sam's death. Catherine pulled herself up, stalking to the door.

"Go away," she called. "I don't want to talk to you people!"

"You better want to talk to me, young lady." The voice that answered caused Catherine to start, and with fumbling fingers, she tore open the door.

"Mom, I'm so sorry," Catherine rushed out an apology. "I thought that the vultures would be swinging in by now-"

Lily crushed her daughter in an embrace before Catherine could complete her sentence, wrapping her arms around Catherine. Catherine swayed slightly before hesitantly hugging her mother back. They had never really been a pairing that displayed affection, and despite her grief and desire to be held by someone, Catherine still felt awkward as she and her mother hugged in her foyer.

Finally, right before Catherine felt like she was going to have an anxiety attack, Lily let go of her. She stared into Catherine's eyes, her hands still on her daughter's forearms. "Are you okay?" Lily asked hoarsely.

"I'm…numb right now," Catherine admitted. "Are you okay?"

Lily shrugged. "I don't know what I feel," she told Catherine. Lily cleared her throat, and then asked, "How is Lindsey?"

"She's…angry," Catherine told her mother. "She saw it on the news before I had the chance to tell her, and she flipped out on me. She uh...told me that I let Sam die, that I'm the one that caused her to get kidnapped…that I'm the worst mother ever, pretty much."

"I'm sorry," Lily said sympathetically. "She's so upset right now, and is saying things that she doesn't mean."

"I meant everything I said!" Catherine and Lily's heads snapped to the staircase where they saw Lindsey standing at the top. With that, Lindsey turned on her heel and walked back to her bedroom, slamming the door shut.

Catherine's head dropped, and she worked to fight her emotions. "I should talk to her," Catherine finally said with a sigh, though she made no move to ascend the stairs.

"Let me do it, honey," Lily said gently. "You look like you're about to fall flat on your face. Have you been sleeping?"

"Not really," Catherine said, running a hand over her tired face. "It's been a bad few days at work with Lindsey getting kidnapped and Sam dying and me…" Catherine trailed off, realizing that Lily didn't know about her being drugged and left in the hotel room naked, and she preferred to keep it that way.

"What about you?" Lily asked suspiciously, catching the hesitation at the end of Catherine's sentence.

"Nothing," Catherine shook her head. "Good luck with her," she added with a flick of her head, effectively ending the conversation. She turned and walked back into the living room, settling on the couch and staring at the television screen. There was so much that needed to be done, Catherine realized. She had to start thinking of funeral arrangements for when Sam's body was released from autopsy, getting her hands on his will, dealing with sympathizers, the media…

Catherine closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, she was laying on the couch, a pillow beneath her head and the blanket from the back of the couch covering her. She felt extremely groggy, as if her head was wrapped in a cloud of fog. The late afternoon talk shows and soap operas were now the CBS Evening News with Katie Couric. The smell of chicken soup permeated the house, and Catherine could only assume that her mother had made dinner for Lindsey.

She struggled to sit up, her body even more stiff then what it had been hours before she fell asleep. Catherine sighed, running a hand through her hair as Katie Couric droned on about how US Representative Mark Foley had decided to resign over inappropriate emails that he had sent to pages or something along those lines. Catherine sat there, her head in her hands as she sighed.

She stood, shutting off the television and shuffling to the kitchen where she found her mother and daughter sitting at the kitchen table, eating dinner. Lindsey glared up at her mother, her eyes puffy from hours of crying. Her daughter didn't say a word, but Lily smiled sympathetically at her daughter. The look on her face said that she would tell Catherine about her conversation later.

"Did you sleep well, honey?" Lily asked Catherine.

Catherine shrugged, sitting down at the kitchen table next to Lindsey, much to her daughter's chagrin. Catherine ignored how Lindsey shifted her seat away from her, angling her back to her mother. "I guess so," Catherine told Lily.

"Yeah, I came downstairs, and you were asleep. I covered you because I figured that you would need the sleep now. It's going to be a rough few days," Lily explained. She stood up and walked to the cabinets, pulling open the door and grabbing a bowl. "How much soup do you want, honey?" Lily asked Catherine.

"Oh, I'm…uh, I'm not really hungry, thanks though," Catherine replied, waving her hand. "I appreciate it, though."

"When's the last time you ate?" Lily asked Catherine.

"I had some crackers this morning," Catherine said with a shrug. She honestly wasn't hungry, and even if she were, she wasn't sure her stomach would hold any food down.

Lily scrutinized her daughter, taking in the gaunt features on her face. She was pretty sure that if Catherine were to take off her shirt, Lily would see the lines of her ribcage. That worried her, but she knew that Catherine would get agitated if she were to keep pressing.

Catherine sighed softly, crossing her legs. "Any calls for me?" she asked Lily.

Lily shook her head. "The phone started ringing off the hook around two o'clock," she told Catherine. "Reporters. I turned the phone off after the third call. I didn't want them to wake you up."

Catherine rolled her eyes to herself. It figured that the hounds were starting to attack. After all, Sam was someone who was in the spotlight all the time, and for him to be shot down so brutally, the media was of course in frenzy. There was a reason why Catherine's address was unlisted in the phonebook, but she knew it was a matter of time before they found out where she lived and started banging on her door to get a statement.

She rubbed her eyes, yawning slightly. Her four hour catnap had done nothing for her. "Did you talk to the funeral home at all?" Catherine asked Lily.

Lindsey shot to her feet, her hand pounding the table. Catherine jumped while Lily simply looked at her granddaughter with astonishment. "May I be excused?" Lindsey asked through gritted teeth, glaring at her mother.

Catherine stared at her daughter, wondering where the loving young woman of a few weeks ago had gone. She knew that teenagers had mood swings, but this seemed so…extreme. Finally, Catherine answered, "Yes, honey, you may."

Lindsey pushed her chair into the table, stalking away from her mother. She made her way to the stairs and stomped up to her room, slamming the door.

Catherine sighed in response, looking at Lily. "So I take it that your conversation didn't go too well?" Catherine asked.

"She's mad," Lily said with a shrug. "She's upset about everything from the accident to her being kidnapped to Sam being murdered."

"She's not the only one, though," Catherine muttered, loud enough for Lily to hear her. "I love Lindsey but right now, she's just irking me. She's being selfish."

"She said the same thing about you, Catherine," Lily told Catherine gently.

Catherine stared up at her mother. "How am I being selfish?!" she asked, aghast. "Lindsey is the one who-"

Lily held her hands up in defense. "I don't know, Catherine. That's for you two to duke out," she cut off Catherine. "I'm not getting in the middle of it."

Catherine took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "Did you talk to the funeral home?" she finally asked again.

"Yes, they said that Sam had paid for everything in full and has a plot set aside and everything. He even wrote an obituary which will run in the paper starting tomorrow. Apparently he was prepared for something like this," Lily told Catherine sadly.

"I figured so," Catherine answered, standing up. "Look…I caught a tough case this morning, and I wanted to look over a few things. Is there anyway you could stay with Lindsey for the night?"

"Honey, it's only seven o'clock," Lily said. "You're going in five hours before your shift starts!"

"By the time I get there, it will only be four hours," Catherine pointed out. "I just…need to get my head straight, and sitting here waiting for them to do an autopsy isn't going to help me. I can get stuff done at work."

Lily stared critically at her daughter, then finally nodded. "Just promise me that you'll eat something later tonight?"

"I will," Catherine promised, knowing that she was lying to her mother. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten a good meal…it was probably around the same time that she got a good night's sleep.

Catherine turned and walked out of the kitchen and up the steps. She hesitated by Lindsey's door, wondering if she should attempt to talk to her daughter. Finally, she just passed by her daughter's room, not wanting to cause herself or Lindsey anymore stress just by her mere presence.

She made her way into her room, pulling off clothing as she moved. She dropped her clothes in her clothes basket, making a mental note to grab a spare pair of pants and shirt to take to work. Glancing at the huge mirror above her dresser, Catherine paused.

She looked terrible.

It wasn't a figment of her imagination that she had lost weight over the course of the last couple of weeks. She was thinner, her bones sticking out against her skin. Bruises marred her complexion, from the one down her left shoulder to the one crossing her left collarbone to her right breast from where the seatbelt had locked and she had jerked roughly against it. There was even one on her right hip, and the one on her head, though that one was getting easier to camouflage with makeup.

Catherine shook her head, walking away from the mirror and into her large bathroom. She didn't need to see her reflection to know that she wasn't looking her best. She lit a couple of candles, dimmed the lights, and hopped in her shower, taking a fast but luxurious hot shower. The warm water and scents from the aromatherapy candles helped to soothe her stiff, sore muscles. By the time she had rinsed the conditioner out of her hair, she felt twenty times better. She was almost content to stand there for hours, but the urge to get to work stopped her from simply standing there until she became a prune.

Catherine was a clothes horse, so even when she was behind on laundry – like she was now – she was able to put together a decent outfit without any trouble. After putting on her panties and bra, she pulled a pair of black pants off of a hanger, searching for a shirt to go with them. As she tugged on the pants, she settled on light blue tank top which would work just fine for the late September Vegas heat should she be working outside tonight. She pulled the garment over her head, smoothing the material with her palm.

"Shoes, shoes," Catherine murmured to herself. She laughed out loud when she realized she was talking to herself. _Oh, well,_ she thought as she kneeled, looking at her shoe collection. Her knee cracked, painfully reminding her of her earlier resolution to wear flatter shoes.

"Black boots…no. Brown boots…no. More black boots…" she spoke to herself as she went through the inventory of her closet "Stilettos I bought to go with that sexy little red number…Black heels. Tan heels. Sneakers…no, they don't go with my outfit." She felt a little vain, worrying about her footwear matching her outfit, but hey, a woman had to do what a woman had to do! She finally came across a pair of black boots that had a two inch heel versus the other ones that had three inches…or more. She stared at the leather garments. "They'll have to do," Catherine said to herself with a sigh. She brightened a bit at the thought of going shoe shopping later, and tugged the boots on.

She took a moment to relish the feel of the leather against her muscular calves, and then pulled her pants over them. She grabbed a spare pair of jeans and a shirt to replenish her locker with. On second thought, she grabbed a belt as well before heading out of her room, pausing by Lindsey's door.

She knocked lightly, not surprised when her daughter didn't reply. "Lindsey, I'm going to work early," Catherine called. She leaned her head against the wall, closing her eyes. "Grandmom is going to stay the night, but if you need anything, honey, please call me? I don't care what time it is, if you need me, just call…" Silence. Catherine sighed, and then added, "I love you, Lindsey. I hope you know that."

There was still no answer, but Catherine couldn't work up the energy to get mad. Instead, she just stepped away from the door, walking down the steps.

"I'll see you later, mom," Catherine said to Lily before making her way to her driveway.

It only took her about fifteen minutes to get to the crime lab, and she wasn't shocked to see a crowd of reporters milling around the entrance to the lab. Catherine groaned to herself, wondering if she could sneak past them without them realizing who she was. Chances were they didn't know what kind of car she drove, and that they were expecting her closer to midnight.

Catherine drummed her fingers against the steering wheel impatiently, wondering if she should call into Ecklie to get him to make the crowd disperse. She knew that was a moot point, as they would claim freedom of press and speech and Lord knew what else. She considered just turning around and not coming back until closer to midnight when there would be more people so perhaps she could kind of blend in with the crowd.

"Ugh," Catherine groaned, finally unbuckling her seatbelt and turning off the car. She was never one to back away from trouble or run from her fears, and she wasn't about to start now. Gathering her pants, belt, and shirt in her arms, she made sure her purse was secure around her shoulder before exiting her Mustang.

Almost immediately, the reporters noticed her making her way up to the door. "Ms. Willows," one reporter called, shoving her microphone into Catherine's face. "Do you care to comment about the death of your father?"

"No," Catherine answered as politely as possible, ducking her head down and resisting the urge to knock the microphone out of her face.

"Ms. Willows, what happened the other night?" Another reporter pressed forward, his microphone knocking the woman's microphone out of the way before Catherine could do it with her hand.

"No comment," Catherine replied, taking note that the door was less than five feet away. She would probably be through the door having to only withstand one more stupid question, God willing.

"Ms. Willows, Kay Peterson with the Vegas Times," a silky voice cut in. "Can I have a minute of your time?"

Catherine smiled to herself. In the time it took for Peterson to get that question out, she made it to the door. She opened the door, stepping in halfway and turning back to the crowd "Oh, I'd love to, Ms. Peterson, but those other folks wasted the ten seconds I was willing to give to you people. Sorry," she said with a shrug.

With that, Catherine slammed the door in their faces, catching the irritated look on Peterson's face. She knew that Peterson was one of the Times' best reporters, and had many important articles under her belt. If there was one person you talked to in Vegas, it was Kay Peterson.

And Catherine Willows had just pissed her off to no end.

"That actually felt kind of good," Catherine muttered to herself, making her way to the locker room. She deposited her jeans and shirt into her locker. Her minimal joy at one upping the reporters was short lived, however, when she noticed her belt was missing. "Shit," Catherine uttered. It was one of her favorite belts, one that Nick had given to her for Christmas a few years ago. It was handmade, straight from some ranch in Texas. She desperately thought back to sitting in her car, trying to remember if she grabbed it off her seat. She prayed that she left it in her car and that it wasn't getting stomped on by the sharks that were camping out by the door. There was no way that she was going back outside, especially after she ticked off the Times' best writer.

Catherine's eyes found the drawing that Lindsey had done eight years before. Tears welled in her eyes, and she couldn't help the few that trickled down her cheeks. At one point Lindsey had thought of Catherine as 'SuperMommy' and now she was so mad at Catherine that she wouldn't even acknowledge the fact that her mother was going to work. It had been a terrible week so far, and losing her belt simply sent Catherine over the edge. She sat down on the bench, allowing the tears to fall freely.

It wasn't fair.

She buried her face in her hands, allowing the sobs to overtake her body. Her small frame shook as the grief overwhelmed her. She cried for Sam, Lindsey, her family, for everyone. Everything seemed like it was falling apart.

Catherine wasn't sure how long she sat there before the door opened. She shot to her feet, burying her head into her still open locker. She closed her eyes, wiping a hand across her face in hopes to hide the fact she was crying.

"Hey, Catherine," she heard.

She stiffened slightly when she realized it was Warrick. _Shit. Figures it's the one person besides Grissom who could see right through me, _Catherine thought. "Hey," Catherine answered. _Keep your replies short and to the point, at least until it isn't obvious you've been crying, _Catherine coached herself.

"Man, it's a zoo out there, isn't it?" Warrick asked lightly.

"Yeah," Catherine replied.

Warrick hesitated, hearing the emotion deep in Catherine's voice. He knew that she had been crying, even without seeing her face. Walking over to where Catherine stood hunched in the doorway, Warrick placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, Cat, come here," Warrick said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She stiffened at the contact, her muscles tense as Warrick kept his hand on her shoulder. The touch was light, as Warrick was conscious of the fact that her shoulder had been jerked in the accident, and he didn't want to cause her any distress. She was in plenty of pain without him tugging on her aching muscles…

With another sob, Catherine launched herself at Warrick, wrapping her arms around his midsection and burying her face into his chest. "Whoa," Warrick said softly, steadying himself as he wrapped his arms around Catherine. The crying caused her body to shake, and Warrick pulled her closer to him. "Shh, honey, it's okay," Warrick soothed, rubbing circles on her back. "It's okay."

"No it's not," Catherine sniffled. "Sam's dead, Lindsey hates me, I can't eat or sleep, and I lost my favorite belt. What else could go wrong?"

Warrick closed his eyes, holding Catherine. "It's gonna be okay, Catherine," he said. "I'm sorry that things aren't looking up for you at the moment. But you're a strong person, and I know that with time you'll be okay and at peace with Sam," Warrick said gently. "As for Lindsey, I'm sure she doesn't hate you. She's a teenager, and they go through these stages where they fell like they can be nasty to everyone. I know it's hard, but one day she'll wake up and realize that you're not a bad person at all."

"She actually blamed me for Sam's death, Warrick," Catherine said sadly. "As if I don't blame myself as it is."

"Hey," Warrick said gently, leaning back and taking Catherine's face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "That wasn't your fault."

"I…don't know what to feel, Warrick."

"It could have easily been you in that position," Warrick replied sharply.

"I should have pushed him out of the way or some-"

"And then we'd be mourning you instead. Do you really want Lindsey to grow up without a mother?"

Catherine was silent for a moment. "She'd probably like that," she finally said with a sigh.

Warrick used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the last few tears that were on Catherine's face. He hesitated, and then pressed his lips against Catherine's forehead. "It's going to be okay, honey," he whispered.

She simply closed her eyes in response, nodding against his warm hands before Warrick wrapped his arms around Catherine again, holding her tightly. "Hey, we're both extremely early," Warrick pointed out after a few long moments on silence. "Why don't we go grab something to eat and then come back? We can still get some extra hours, but we can start off the shift with a good meal."

"I'm not really hungry," Catherine protested.

"Keep me company," Warrick suggested, grabbing her hand and pulling her to him.

"I don't want to face the circus out there again," Catherine argued.

"Hey," Warrick chastised. "You're not going to do yourself or your family any good by working yourself to the ground. So you're either coming with me or I'm carrying you over my shoulder to your car. By the way, you owe me a spin in that sexy little number you just bought."

Catherine finally smiled. "Okay, okay," she gave in. "I don't want to give those idiots outside any pictures of me, let alone one where you're carrying me."

Warrick grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "That's my girl!"

Catherine simply rested her head against his shoulder, allowing him to guide her to the firestorm outside.

~/~

End 2/?


	3. Trying

Hey guys! Thanks once again for the lovely round of feedback! Thanks to Chris (who loves my random Marg texts…), Brillows4Ever, YoblingDramoineLover, csi cameron, csiaddict2, cutiehooty, wendysam, Caroline, name-me, and Dani. Your feedback is much appreciated, as is the folks who have added me to their alerts/favorites.

Figured I'd get this one out here tonight, as I will be rocking out to Jimmy Buffett tomorrow night while getting my drink on! Parrotheads for the win!

Enjoy, and feel free to drop all those positive words my way!!!

~/~

Catherine walked into the funeral home, doing her best to ignore the flashbulbs and clicking of cameras that were twenty feet away behind the fence separating the funeral home from the auto parts store that was next door. She supposed that she should be grateful that they weren't hanging by the door, though Catherine had a feeling that the funeral directors had a major part in that.

She smoothed the front of her smart black business suit, making sure that there were no wrinkles on her jacket. Catherine straightened the front of her blouse, making sure that she was presentable. It was going to be a very long night, no doubt about it and she wanted to look good as she greeted guests at Sam's funeral.

"Ms. Willows, how are you doing?" Catherine looked up to see Jeremy Garcia, the owner of the funeral home striding up to her. He took her hand, squeezing it gently.

"I'm okay at the moment," Catherine admitted softly, looking into the green eyes of the older man. Jeremy was one of the kindest people that she ever met, and had been nothing but helpful in the process of planning Sam's funeral and memorial.

"Good, good," Jeremy replied. "You're the first one here."

"That's surprising, usually I'm ducking in just as everyone notices that I'm late or missing," Catherine commented with a small laugh.

She was rewarded with a small chuckle, and then Jeremy asked, "If I can get you anything, you will let me know, right?"

"Of course, Mr. Garcia," Catherine answered.

"Please, call me Jeremy."

"Only if you call me Catherine."

Jeremy smiled kindly, and Catherine slowly made her way into the room where Sam's viewing was going to take place. She sighed softly, seeing the open casket. She just couldn't bring herself to go up just yet…

"Hey, Catherine," she heard, and she turned to see her mom walking up to her. Lindsey was with her, but she didn't meet Catherine's eyes as she looked around the funeral home. She was looking everywhere but at Catherine.

"Hi, Mom," Catherine replied, hugging her mom tightly. "Hi, Lindsey."

Lindsey didn't answer, and Catherine fought the sigh that threatened to fall from her lips. She knew that Lindsey was upset, but the silent treatment was getting ridiculous.

Catherine opened her mouth to say something, but Lily spoke up first. "It looks like we have our first guests," she pointed out, nodding to the entrance into the viewing room where two elderly men were making their way into the room, followed by two more men, these younger and dressed in sharp suits.

The next hour was a whirlwind of activity for Catherine. She accepted regrets, hugged people that she didn't know, and smiled at stories that she didn't really see the humor in. It was the least that she could do. Catherine knew that Sam touched quite a few people, and if it made the people feel better about sharing a story, it was the least she could do to smile at their anecdotes. She kept an eye on Lindsey, who stuck to her Grandmother's side for the majority of the time, her eyes downcast except to nod or shake her head slightly once in awhile at someone who spoke to her.

Finally, it seemed like forever before a welcome – or rather, group of welcome – faces made their way into the viewing room. Catherine's eyes lit up as Grissom, dressed in a smart black suit, led Warrick, Nick, Sara, Brass, and Greg into the funeral home. Grissom met Catherine's gaze and sent a smile her way.

Catherine made an attempt to pay attention to what the older woman named Angelica was telling her, but her focus was on the group of her coworkers who were standing near Sam's casket. She watched as Grissom made the sign of the cross, stepping aside for Nick to pay his respects. One by one, her colleagues, despite their opinion of Sam, said a brief prayer for Catherine's father. All night, Catherine had been successful in controlling her emotions, but that sight made the lump in her throat grow to the size of a basketball.

"Hey, you," Grissom said softly, walking up to Catherine and hugging her carefully. He glanced at her, holding her at arms length. "You doing okay?"

She offered a half shrug, nodding. "I'm meeting a lot of Sam's friends, hearing some great stories, you know," she told him, glancing at Jim as he stepped up to her side.

"Hey, kiddo," Jim said softly, hugging Catherine to his side. "I'm so sorry about your loss."

"Thanks, Jim," Catherine said gratefully before turning to Sara. "Thanks for coming," she said softly to the brunette as they hugged.

Sara's hand rubbed Catherine's back as she answered, "We're a team through and through. We support each other."

Catherine hugged Nick and Greg, thanking them for their attendance and making a promise to Greg that she would let him know if she needed anything before looking at Warrick. He opened his arms, and Catherine stepped up to him, relishing the feel of his arms around her. She felt safe, and for a long moment, there was nothing wrong with the world. It felt so perfect to be in his arms as he rubbed her back, and there was no need for him to say any words.

They stood like that for a minute before Warrick finally stepped back, placing a hand on Catherine's shoulder. She wiped her eyes to stop the tears that she knew would be falling within seconds. She glanced at Lindsey, who was watching her with cold eyes.

Gil followed her gaze, smiling briefly at Lily before looking at Lindsey. "Hey, honey," Gil said to Lindsey. "I'm really sorry about your grandfather."

Lindsey gaze him a half shrug that reminded Gil of the one Catherine had just offered. "I know," she finally said, her gaze focused on the toe of her shoes.

Gil simply nodded, patting Lindsey's shoulder as the rest of the team followed in his footsteps, offering their condolences to Catherine's daughter. She seemed uninterested, though, simply nodding to each of their comments and not even bothering to make eye contact.

Catherine wanted to say something to chastise Lindsey about her poor attitude towards her friends and colleagues, but figured that it would set off World War III. She didn't want to have another confrontation with Lindsey. Not today, at least, in the middle of a funeral home surrounded by her coworkers and Sam's friends.

"Hey, Cat, we're going to hang out over there for a few minutes until the ceremony starts," Nick said softly, nodding his head towards a group of chairs that were empty. "Let us know if you need anything, okay?"

"Of course, Nicky, thanks," Catherine answered.

Once again, time flew as she greeted mourners, offering comfort and gratitude to everyone who came up to her. Before Catherine knew it, the director of the funeral home had tapped her elbow, indicating that it was time for them to hold the brief ceremony that Sam had wanted before they made the short trek to the cemetery where he was to be buried. With a brief note of thanks, she made her way over to the front of the room, sitting down.

Catherine sat down on the second to last chair, and Lily sat to her left on the aisle. Lindsey made her way over to where they sat, anger in her eyes when she saw that the only open seat was the one next to Catherine. She opened her mouth to protest the seating arrangements, but Catherine sent her a glare that even made the toughest criminals cringe slightly. Rolling her eyes, Lindsey flopped down in the seat next to Catherine, staring straight ahead.

The service was short and sweet, with a priest saying a few prayers and blessing Sam's body. One of Sam's close friends delivered a lighthearted eulogy, and Catherine found herself smiling throughout the speech.

Finally, family and friends were allowed to say final goodbyes, and Catherine soon found herself, Lily, and Lindsey alone with Sam's body before they were to transfer him to the cemetery. Lindsey stood on her tiptoes and kissed Sam's forehead before fleeing to the back of the room, sobbing. Catherine made a move to follow, but Lily shook her head, indicating that she should leave her daughter be for a few moments. Catherine sighed, watching as Lily came up and murmured a few words, stroking his hand before finally walking away as well.

Catherine froze, realizing that she still hadn't viewed Sam's body up until this point of the night. She forced her legs to move, walking to the edge of the casket. It didn't even really look like Sam, Catherine thought. She raised a shaking hand to the casket, running her fingers over his cold hand.

She closed her eyes, fighting her emotions as she looked at her father. There was so much that she wanted to say to him, but it just seemed so out of place. Catherine swallowed the lump in her throat before finally saying, "I love you, Sam. I'm gonna miss you."

With that, she turned, walking away from his body.

Lily took her elbow as they walked to the limo that Sam had paid to have transport Catherine, Lily, and Lindsey to the cemetery. The ride was somber and quiet as the three passengers stared out the windows during the journey, each lost in their own thoughts.

Much like the ceremony at the funeral home, the ceremony at the cemetery was brief. Catherine sat numbly between Lily and Lindsey, the words of the priest sounding jumbled as she stared at Sam's casket. It was all so surreal, and her focus was on nothing but the wooden casket containing her father's body. It wasn't on the group behind her, or the fact that Lily clutched her hand as Lindsey sobbed beside her….

It was all about Sam, and the fact that he was gone.

The funeral director handed out roses for the mourners to throw in the hole with Sam's casket. Catherine simply sat in her chair, however, long past when all the mourners had thrown their roses in the casket and silently made their ways back to their vehicles in order to go to the reception that was to be held in Sam's honor.

She stared, unmoving for several minutes. Finally, someone placed a hand on her shoulder, yet she wasn't startled. Instead, she looked up to find Warrick's green eyes staring at her. She stared back, her blue eyes filled with the tears that had yet to fall.

"Hey, you," Warrick finally said softly, making his way to sit in the chair next to her that Lily had previously occupied. "You okay?"

"I don't know," Catherine admitted. "I didn't think that it would be this hard to say goodbye. I mean…I didn't even know he was my father until a few years ago." She sighed, twirling her rose in her fingers. "God, that sounds so terrible. I sound like I'm saying that I'm not even supposed to care."

Warrick covered her hand with his, stilling her movements. "It's okay to care, Catherine," he said softly.

With that, her tears fell, fast and furious. Warrick pulled Catherine close, rubbing his hands down her back yet again in an attempt to soothe and calm her. "It's okay, honey," Warrick told her. "It's okay."

"I'm just going to miss him so much," Catherine sniffled. "I know we had a rocky relationship, but my God I loved him. He was my father for God's sake. Even with this last week, I never stopped caring for him and I hate that I didn't have more time on Earth with him."

"I know that it's hard, Cat," Warrick told her. "The best thing that you can do is just treasure the time that you did have with him."

Catherine nodded against his shoulder, sighing. "This stinks, War."

"I know it does, honey. But you're one of the strongest people I know," he responded, wrapping an arm around her slender shoulder. "It's not you to wallow in pity and grieve. You always charge right back into the fight."

Catherine nodded, taking a deep breath and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm tired of fighting," she finally murmured, and it took Warrick a minute to realize what she was talking about.

"Things still not good with Lindsey?"

"Not one bit," Catherine answered bitterly. "She acts like I'm not even there, and when she does look at me, it's just to glare at me or give me a dirty look because I've annoyed her. I'm not looking forward to when my mother goes home."

Warrick sighed. "I wish I knew what to say here, but…"

He trailed off, and Catherine just shrugged. "I don't think that there's anything to say. I really hope that she snaps out of it," she replied, staring off into the distance.

Warrick glanced over his shoulder, seeing that all the vehicles had left the cemetery except for the Tahoe he had been driving and the limo. He could see Greg and Nick patiently waiting, and while he couldn't see her, he sensed that Lindsey was impatiently waiting for Catherine to get done. He sighed, squeezing Catherine's shoulder again. "Hey, honey, how about we head to the hall?" he suggested.

Catherine puffed out a breath of air, nodding after a moment. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then stood. "There's one last thing I need to do," she told Warrick.

He stood back, watching as Catherine walked to the still open gravesite. Her back was to him, so Warrick couldn't see what she was doing or saying. However, when she turned around, a few fresh tears had trickled down her cheeks, and the rose at her fingertips was gone. Warrick waited until she stepped up to his side and wrapped his arm around her shoulders once again. "How about afterwards, you and I go to that little diner before shift? I'm going to need some coffee, and I'm sure that you will too."

Catherine smiled up at him, a sad smile that played across her lips. "I'd love that," Catherine answered quietly, allowing him to guide her across the lush green grass.

~/~

Warrick and Catherine walked into the diner, smiling at their usual waitress as they slid into an empty booth near the back of the diner. She faced the door, as Warrick knew that Catherine preferred to watch who was coming in and out of the restaurant. She was a people watcher.

Catherine handed Warrick a menu before she stared at her choices, wondering if she should even bother looking. Her stomach was kind of upset from the stress of Sam's funeral and burial. Catherine hadn't even really eaten any of the munchies at the hall after the ceremony, as she was busy talking to everyone and making sure that everything was okay with the food and the staff.

Catherine was kind of shocked that she wasn't hungrier. Over the past week, she hadn't had one proper meal, instead choosing to stick to soup, yogurt, toast, and coffee. She hadn't even taken in her daily amount of water, instead choosing to drink as much coffee as possible in order to get her through her nights, and it was starting to take a toll on her.

"What are you doing to get?" Warrick asked Catherine, looking over his menu at her.

"I don't know," Catherine told him. "I'm not really that hungry…"

"Do me a favor, Cath?"

"Hmm?" she asked, her eyes scanning the soups.

"Order some real food?" Her eyes snapped up, meeting his sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, Cat. I just…I've noticed this last week that you haven't been eating," Warrick told her with a shrug. "I'm worried that you're going to make yourself sick and end up in the hospital."

Catherine set her menu down with a sigh. "Me too," she admitted softly. Warrick raised his eyebrows, and Catherine continued, "I just don't have an appetite and I'm scared if I force myself to eat then I'll get sick. Everything's just a mess, Warrick. I feel like everything is falling apart and I have no control over what is going to happen."

Warrick set his menu down as well, taking Catherine's hand in his. "It's going to be okay," he said softly. "I know I keep saying that, but you're one of the strongest people that I know. You'll get through this just fine."

"I don't feel very strong right now…" Catherine trailed off.

At that point, the waitress walked over, setting two cups of coffee in front of Catherine and Warrick. They were such frequent diners there that their usual waitress didn't even have to ask anymore what they wanted to drink. "How are you guys doing tonight?" she asked them.

"I'm okay," Warrick answered, and Catherine offered a half smile in response. Warrick still held her hand, and she felt him squeeze her hand in support before letting go.

"You guys know what you want?" the waitress asked.

"I'm going to have the western burger with extra fries," Warrick told her. He glanced at Catherine.

She sighed, glancing at the menu. "I'm going to have the turkey club, no bacon, no mayo," Catherine said. "And instead of fries, can I get a cup of chicken noodle soup?"

"Of course, honey," the waitress said. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Warrick placed the menus back behind the ketchup, smiling at Catherine. "Thank you," he said.

"I'm not making any promises, but I'll try to eat most of it," Catherine told him. She inched her hand closer to Warrick, giving him a tiny smile when he took it in his. "I want to thank you," Catherine said softly.

"For what?"

"For being there for me these past couple weeks. I know that I was a pain in the butt after Lindsey was kidnapped and you were trying to figure out where she was, but I was just so scared. I was confused with what happened at the nightclub, and then when I saw Sam…well, things were starting to make sense, but I was still so flustered," Catherine said. "I know I was getting on your nerves…"

"No, Catherine, you have nothing to apologize for. I feel terrible because I was so abrupt with you and I shouldn't have tried to push you away. I mean, that's your daughter, for God's sake."

"And I wasn't helping. I was just so upset and I wanted…no, I needed to know what was going on. However, I shouldn't have even been in that room with you," Catherine admitted. "I needed to take my mind of what had happened to me and everything that had just happened with Sam…"

"What happened with Sam at the casino?" Warrick asked. He, along with Nick, Sara, and Gil, all knew what had happened to Catherine at the bar, but when she had returned from Sam's casino with the two photographs and a temper through the roof after confronting him, she had remained silent about the visit except to say that Sam had been sent the two photographs anonymously.

Catherine rubbed her jaw with her free hand, sighing. "I uh…we had words. I accused him of knowing where Lindsey was and who had her. He swore he didn't know, and then started spouting off some crap about never wanting to involve me in his business. I told him that he didn't have a business, that he was a thug in thousand dollar shoes," Catherine said softly.

"Ouch, I can't imagine that Sam took that well," Warrick replied.

"Not one bit," Catherine admitted. "He uh…kind of slapped me across the face."

"What?!" Warrick exclaimed, anger instantly bubbling to the surface. "He didn't!"

"He did," Catherine confirmed with a shrug. "I guess I deserved it, though."

"Hey!" Warrick said softly, reaching across the table and lifting her chin with his fingertips, forcing her to look at him. "You never deserve to be struck. Don't say that."

"I was mouthing off-"

"But you never deserve to be hit. Not now, and not when you were with Eddie," Warrick said firmly.

"I know, but…I guess after being with Eddie for so long, I've kind of come to expect that sort of treatment from people," Catherine said with a sigh.

Warrick paused, looking carefully at Catherine. He supposed that he could understand why she felt that way, but it didn't mean that he had to like it. She was a beautiful woman who deserved so much more than what people gave her. He trailed his fingers across her jaw, smiling gently at her. "Cath…" Warrick trailed off.

Catherine heard her name fall off his lips, but her focus was on a figure that walked into the door. Warrick turned slightly, sighing when he saw that Kay Peterson had sauntered into the diner, her eyes scanning the restaurant.

"Ugh," Catherine groaned, pulling her hand out of Warrick's as he dropped his hand from her jaw. "Maybe she won't notice I'm here."

"Yeah, fat chance," Warrick responded, just as Peterson saw Catherine in the back of the restaurant. "Shit."

"I'll second that," Catherine answered, pretending like she hadn't noticed the pushy reporter making her way to their table. She resisted rolling her eyes as Peterson stopped in front of their table, shaking her long blonde hair from her face.

"Ms. Willows, how are you this evening?" Peterson said softly.

Catherine merely shrugged, not really focusing on Peterson. "I'm fine," she finally answered. "Just getting ready to eat dinner," she added pointedly, trying to hint that she didn't want her meal to be disturbed.

"Oh, are you on a date? Because last time I checked, it was against department regulations for two crime scene investigators…or any member of law enforcement…to be involved in a romantic relationship," Peterson said.

Catherine glared at the reporter, hating everything about her from the smug look on her tan face to the too short skirt, boots, and tight top that she donned. "We're not on a date," Catherine finally growled heatedly. "We're two colleagues getting dinner before a shift. I'm sure that you know today was a tough day for me."

"About that…can I just ask you a few questions?" Peterson asked smoothly.

Catherine didn't even bother trying to hide the roll of her eyes this time. She wasn't sure if she was more annoyed at the fact that Peterson had swung the pendulum back in her favor or that she was still there. She now knew how celebrities felt when they were out to dinner or on a date and the paparazzi wouldn't leave them alone. "You know, Ms.-"

"It's Mrs."

"-Ms. Peterson," Catherine continued. "If I wanted to speak to you or anyone else from the press, I would have done it a long time ago. I've told all of you that I have no comment, and I mean that for everyone. I don't care if you're the Times' lead gal, or if you were an up and coming reporter, or if you were Katie Couric herself. I have no comment about what happened to my father, and I wish that you would respect me and my family's privacy at this time."

Warrick smirked to himself when he saw the astonished look on Peterson's face at being shot down by Catherine yet again. Peterson glared at Catherine, her blue eyes flashing with anger.

"Well, Ms. Willows, I suppose that I will simply let you be, then," Peterson said stiffly. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a business card. "Please give me a call at some point and maybe we can work something out."

Peterson handed it to Catherine, who took the card between her pointer and middle finger. Catherine glanced at Warrick, who was watching her worriedly. He knew that she was pissed off, and when Catherine was pissed, it wasn't pretty.

She looked up at Peterson, who was waiting for Catherine's next move. Finally, Catherine took the card in her fingers, tearing the card with one swift move and dropping the halves at Peterson's feet. "I won't be calling you," Catherine answered with a shrug, matching Peterson's glare with one of her own.

"You know, Ms. Willows…" Peterson started with a laugh. "You have some guts. But I'm very persistent. Believe me when I say that I didn't just wake up one day and end up at the top of the food chain." Peterson leaned in close, so close that Warrick could barely hear her. "Mess with me, and you'll regret it. I can break your career," Peterson threatened Catherine.

And with that, she walked out of the diner, not even sparing Catherine or Warrick a second glance.

~/~

End 3/?


	4. Terror

WELL HI. Lol I've been watching too much Nemo. Ahem, thanks to Chris (who enjoys my epic superpowers), Wileret, csi Cameron, YoblingDramoineLover, jevans47403, cutiehooty, Brillows4Ever, and El Gringo Loco for your lovely reviews. I appreciate feedback, and I've always said that if one person gets joy out of my writing, that's plenty. Keep them coming, guys, and for the folks who are adding me to their favorites/alerts, thanks, and feel free to drop some reviews too! =) It seems like a lot of you hate Kat Peterson, and believe me, I do too, and I created the scrawny little bitch!

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter despite the nature of what happens in the chapter. In a reply to a review, I told someone that my style of writing is dark with a sense of humor. I think that I establish that here, so enjoy.

Enough rambling, though…on to chapter 4!

~/~

Catherine blearily looked at the evidence that was laid out in front of her, closing her eyes for a brief moment in order to control her emotions. There was so much evidence that needed to be sorted through in order to come to some conclusion as to who might have killed Christine Danielson that it was almost overwhelming.

She knew that Greg was one room over looking over the photographs, but Catherine still had a pile of bags to look over as well. It was the last thing that she wanted to do at the moment, though. However, she had put it off for two days already due to catching other cases and there really not being enough time in her shift to look over the evidence.

Catherine glanced at her watch, her body telling her at the same time that she desperately needed some sleep. It was seven in the morning, the time when most people were just waking up and getting ready to start their day. She thought back to the day before, trying to remember when she had fallen asleep. Catherine determined it was around ten o'clock when she had fallen asleep, only to wake up at one in the afternoon because she was so restless and had to prepare for Sam's funeral.

She sighed, willing her brain to focus on the evidence before her. "Come on, Catherine," she coached herself. "Focus."

She looked up as Grissom entered the room, managing a smile for him. He smiled back, standing next to her and looking over the bags of evidence. "Have you started going through anything?" Gil asked.

Catherine blinked. "No, I uh…just got here. I had a B&E earlier," she told Grissom.

"How'd that go?" Grissom asked.

"Okay. I found a credit card at the scene that didn't belong to the homeowners, so Akers is going to talk to the guy," Catherine answered, finally picking a bag up from the pile of evidence and opening it.

Grissom frowned, following her suit and picking up a bag himself. "You think it's your guy?"

"Neither the husband or the wife recognizes the name," Catherine replied as she carefully picked up the evidence, laying it flat so that she could start snapping pictures of it.

"Who brings a credit card to a B&E?" Grissom asked.

Catherine shrugged. "The same type of criminal who uses a match to find his way out of a dynamite factory?" she suggested.

Grissom laughed slightly in response. The pair settled into a comfortable rhythm, working quickly and efficiently through the pile of evidence, sorting out what was important and what seemed to be excusable. They didn't talk much, but the comfortable silence was okay with the two of them. Catherine glanced at the time, wincing when she saw that it was after nine. Their shift has ended over an hour ago, yet she and Grissom were still working hard. Catherine briefly thought about grabbing a cup of coffee to hold her over until she was finished, but decided against it. She figured that it would make her so jittery that it would cause her not to be able to sleep when she finally did get home.

Catherine's phone rang, and she glanced at it, frowning when she saw that it was Lindsey's school calling. Panic ran through Catherine's mind as she flipped open the phone, wondering what was wrong with her daughter. "Hello?" Catherine asked anxiously.

"Yes, may I please speak to Catherine Willows?" a voice spoke.

"Speaking," Catherine answered.

"Hi, this is Richard Little at Butterfield Academy. I was wondering if Lindsey was going to be attending school today," Richard said pleasantly.

"Uh, as far as I know. I'm currently still at work," she explained, knowing that the school officials knew that Catherine worked nights. "My mother would have told me if Lindsey wasn't going to school."

"Yeah, we were told that she would be back today-"

"Yes, yes, I know," Catherine cut him off impatiently. "Uh…let me try to get a hold of my mother, see what's going on. I'll call you back, Mr. Little."

She hung up the phone without saying goodbye, ignoring the worried look that Gil was sending her way. Catherine dialed her mom's number, nervously tapping her fingers against the table as she waited for her mom to answer.

"Morning, honey," Lily finally answered. "How-"

"Mom!" Catherine exclaimed. "Where's Lindsey?"

"I dropped her off at school. Why, what's-"

Catherine cut her off. "Did you watch her go inside?"

"Well, no-"

"Mom! She's not at school!" Catherine yelled. "Shit!" she cursed. "I'll call you back later." She slammed her phone shut. She looked at Grissom, who was looking more alarmed by the second.

"Cath? What's-" he started, only to stop talking as Catherine shook her head vigorously.

"It's Lindsey. She didn't make it into school when my mom dropped her off this morning," she said. "I gotta-"

"Go, go," Grissom cut her off this time, waving off her words.

Catherine nodded, jogging out into the hallway. She crashed into Warrick, nearly falling backwards when he didn't even budge. Warrick stuck out his arm, wrapping an arm around Catherine's waist to keep her on her feet. "Whoa, Cath. Where's the fire?" he joked.

"It's Lindsey," Catherine gasped, pulling away from his grip. "She didn't go to school today!"

"Okay, okay," Warrick said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Okay. Calm down. Where could she-"

"I don't know!" Catherine responded hysterically. "My God what if they got her again? What if-"

"Hey, hey!" Warrick chastised gently, placing his other hand on her shoulder and shaking her slightly. "Hey! No one reported anything suspicious, right?" Catherine shook her head to confirm his statement, and he continued, "So she is probably cutting class or something! It's okay, Cat. Calm down, take a deep breath. We're going to find her."

"We?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah. I'm done here, so I'll help you find her, okay?"

Catherine nodded vigorously. "Just hurry up, Warrick," Catherine said anxiously.

"Let me put my papers down, and we can go," he replied calmly.

Catherine nodded, running a hand across her face. She froze, yanking out her cell phone once again. She dialed Lindsey's number, crossing her arms as she cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder. The phone rang several times before Lindsey's voicemail finally picked up. "Linds, it's Mom. Call me when you get this," Catherine spoke tersely before shutting her phone. Obviously, her phone was on, and she wondered if Lindsey was purposely ignoring her call or if she physically couldn't…

"Hey, let's go," Warrick reappeared, breaking Catherine out of her thoughts.

Catherine tossed the keys to her Mustang to Warrick. "You drive," Catherine told him. "I'm too worried right now."

Warrick caught the keys, grabbing Catherine's hand and pulling her to the parking lot. He led Catherine to her car, unlocking the vehicle with the keyless entry. Once they were seated and had on their seatbelts, Warrick fired up the Mustang. "Where to first?" he asked.

Catherine thought for a long moment. "I guess we can try this one restaurant by the school. I know that she and her friends like to go there after school sometimes," she told Warrick.

Warrick nodded, putting the car into drive. "What is the name of the restaurant?"

"Charlie's," Catherine responded numbly. For a brief second, panic spread throughout her chest and she wondered whether Lindsey was deliberately skipping school or not. After all, less than two weeks had passed since Lindsey's kidnapping, and Catherine questioned whether all of Joe Hirschoff's acquaintances had been round up. She forced herself to calm down, staring out the window.

"Hey," Warrick said softly, reaching across the space between the two of them. "We're gonna find her, Cat."

"I really hope so," Catherine responded miserably. "I can't go through that again."

Warrick squeezed her hand briefly before focusing in weaving in and out of traffic again. Before they knew it, Catherine and Warrick pulled up to the small restaurant. Catherine got out of the Mustang quickly, striding up to the doors with Warrick close behind her.

"Hi, how are ya'll doing today?" the hostess greeted them. "Two?"

"What? No," Catherine shook her head. "We're actually looking for someone." She flashed her CSI badge, using her thumb to cover where she actually worked. Warrick stood behind Catherine, his arms crossed menacingly.

"What, are you two cops?" the girl asked nervously.

Catherine made a big deal of looking at the girl's nametag, and replied, "Something like that, Amy. Why, is there a problem?"

"No, I uh…no," Amy replied meekly, her gaze flicking back to the kitchen. She shook her greasy black hair out of her face, revealing several piercing in her ears. "Who are you looking for? An employee?"

"No," Catherine answered, pulling a picture of Lindsey out of her wallet. "We're looking for her."

Amy glanced at the picture, her gaze flicking with recognition. "Hey, I know her!" she said. "She's in here once and awhile. Her name's….Lauren? Lizzy?"

"Lindsey," Catherine snapped.

"That's it, Lindsey!" Amy snapped her fingers. "What did she do?"

Before Catherine exploded, Warrick spoke up. "We're not at liberty to discuss that," he said seriously. "Was she here today?"

"Oh, you just missed her and a group of friends," Amy said. "They left like fifteen minutes ago."

"Did you hear where they were headed?" Catherine asked.

"No, I'm just the hostess," Amy said with a shrug. "Let me ask the dude who waited on them. Yo, Shorty!" Amy yelled.

Catherine cringed at the loud yell, the girl's voice permeating her throbbing head. She placed a couple of fingers against her temple, feeling comforted when Warrick placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly in an attempt to sooth her frazzled nerves.

"Yo," the employee labeled as Shorty swaggered up, a towel slung over his shoulder. "What's up, Boo?"

"Cops are here, B," Amy said.

"Who you looking for?" Shorty asked nervously.

"You guys seem to be kind of nervous around here," Warrick spoke up, raising his eyebrows as he looked the young African American up and down. "Is there a problem?"

"Nah, dawg," Shorty said with a shrug. "Just wondering how I can help Las Vegas' finest."

"We're looking for this girl," Catherine spoke up, holding up the photo of Lindsey.

Shorty glanced at the picture, a smile coming across his face. "That's the fine little Mami with the hot ass that came in earlier," he said. "She's so hot…and a real flirt. I'd like a piece of that-"

Warrick could sense Catherine's blood pressure going through the roof, so he cut Shorty off. "What do you know about her whereabouts?" he asked.

"Man, dawg, I don't know," Shorty hesitated. "I don't wanna get caught up with no cops."

Before Warrick could stop her, Catherine stepped up to the taller man, snarling, "Unless you want us to bust you and your little friends right now for whatever you're doing back in that kitchen, you better start talking!"

Despite the height and weight advantage that Shorty had over Catherine, he still looked nervous and chastised as she glared at him. Warrick didn't blame him at all. Despite her petite frame, Catherine Willows frightened even the toughest criminals when she was pissed. "Look, babe, this isn't going to get back to me, is it?" he asked. "Cause that fine little gal offered me-"

Warrick saw Catherine's fists start to clench, and he grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back and taking a step in front of her. "Look, son, you better start talking before I unleash my partner on you, and trust me when I say that she isn't the lady you want to mess with right now," Warrick warned. "It's been a very long night and she's pretty much looking for a fight."

Shorty glanced at Warrick, then at Catherine. Seeing the enraged look on Catherine's tense face, he sighed. "Look, she and her friends were talking about going to Spencer's at the Vegas Mall and a few other places," Shorty admitted. "They were heading there when they left. I overheard them talking."

"Who was she with?"

"I don't-" Shorty began, but he stopped when he saw the pissed look on Catherine's face. "Uh, it was another girl and two guys. The one dude's name was…Brian? Ryan maybe? Sorry, Boo."

Catherine glared at Shorty and Amy, turning on her heel and walking out the door. "Thank you for your time," Warrick said to the duo, moving to follow Catherine to the door.

"Hey, bro, let me ask you a question," Shorty spoke up. "That partner of yours taken?"

Warrick scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, she's taken," he lied. "She's got a man. A good one at that."

"Man, pity," Shorty responded. "That's one sexy milf."

"Sorry, homey, but she is way out of your league," Warrick shrugged, resisting the urge to knock out the waiter himself. With that, he turned and quickly followed Catherine. By the time he got to the car, Catherine was on the phone to Jim, informing him of the suspicious behavior going on at Charlie's. She flipped the phone shut, seeing the somewhat amused look that Warrick was giving her.

"What?" she growled. "I'm just making sure that-"

"-that the twenty-five year old wannabe thug hinting that he wanted to sleep with your underage daughter pays? I wasn't gonna say anything, Cath," Warrick said with a shrug.

Catherine sighed, getting in her car as Warrick unlocked the door. Once again, he fired up the Mustang and peeled out of the parking lot, purposely leaving black tire marks in the concrete. Warrick sped to the Vegas Mall, parking as close as possible as he could to the entrance where he knew Spencer's was.

"Where do you want to go first?" Warrick asked Catherine.

"Well, Captain Douche Bag said that she mentioned Spencer's specifically, so I guess there," Catherine answered.

Warrick wanted to laugh at her nickname for Shorty, but chose not to. Catherine was obviously irate and he didn't want any reason to fuel her temper, so he simply followed her as she made her way determinedly to Spencer's.

He was close on her heels as she entered the store. Warrick couldn't help but wonder how out of place they looked in the store that had a huge display of farting machines and Simpson's memorabilia by the front. He stuck close to Catherine, trying to ignore the fact that they were winding through an aisle that had all types of novelty condoms for display as Catherine searched for Lindsey.

Finally, at the back of the store, Catherine noticed Lindsey looking over a rack. Her eyes narrowed as she saw her daughter, and Warrick had to walk faster in order to keep up with Catherine's increased steps.

"See anything you like?" Catherine snapped at Lindsey, ignoring the fact that her daughter was reading the back of a package of furry handcuffs.

Lindsey's head snapped up at Catherine's voice, and she hastily put the package back. "Mom! What are you doing here?!" she gasped, noticing that Warrick was right behind Catherine.

"I should ask you the same damn question, Lindsey!" Catherine exclaimed. "Why aren't you in school?"

"I uh…we have off today," Lindsey stammered. "There-"

"Bull!" Catherine cut her off. "I got a phone call today asking why you weren't in school!"

Lindsey turned beet red, seeing that other customers were starting to stare. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her three friends take off out the door. "I…I'm sorry, mom," Lindsey finally spoke up, a tear trickling down her face. "I…I just couldn't go back yet! I wasn't ready to face everyone about what happened to me, or to Grandpa," she admitted.

For a brief second, Catherine's face softened. Then, her eyes hardened as she grabbed Lindsey's arm and lead her out of the store and back to her car. "Don't you dare use your Grandfather's name for this," she said. "You were fine yesterday and I heard you telling Aunt Nancy that you were looking forward to going back to school so you could take your mind off what happened!"

Lindsey pulled her arm, trying to get her mom to let go of the strong grip she had on her arm. "Let go of me!" Lindsey groused to Catherine.

"No, not until you're in my car," Catherine snapped. "You obviously can't be trusted!"

"I can't be trusted?!" Lindsey repeated incredulously. "You're the one who didn't even have the guts to tell me about Grandpa! I had to find out due to the damned news!"

Catherine froze in the middle of the parking lot, her sudden bust of adrenaline fading slightly before she glared at Lindsey again. "Who the hell do you think you are?" Catherine yelled. "You are such a selfish brat!"

"Screw you, mom! I'd rather be a selfish brat then a mean, old, heartless, pathetic bitch like you!" Lindsey yelled back.

Catherine's first instinct was to slap the taste out of Lindsey's mouth but she resisted. Instead, she simply stared at her daughter. "That's it. No phone, computer, friends, video games, or television. You're grounded, Lindsey," she said with an air of shakiness she detested.

"Ugh!" Lindsey rolled her eyes. "For how long!"

"A month," Catherine snarled, and she couldn't help but think to a similar conversation she had with her daughter about five years previous when Lindsey had been caught attempting to hitchhike. "And if you push me, I'll make it two!" Catherine added before Lindsey could protest.

"Whatever," Lindsey answered, shoving past Warrick until she got to the Mustang. "Well, are you going to unlock this piece of shit Midlife Crisis Mobile sometime today or are you going to just stand there like an asshole?"

"You're grounded for two months," Catherine shot back, frustrated at her daughter's attitude. She snatched the keys out of Warrick's hands, unlocking the door. Lindsey climbed into the backseat, her lips moving as she did so. Catherine could only imagine what her daughter was saying about her.

She slid into the driver's seat as Warrick silently slid into the passenger's seat. Meeting Lindsey's glare through the rearview mirror with one of her own, Catherine growled, "That's three months!"

"What?!" Lindsey yelled. "I didn't-"

"Want to aim for four?!"

Lindsey wisely stayed silent, silently fuming as she stared out the window. Her gaze was so stormy Catherine was almost expecting steam to be coming out of her ears. The ride back to the lab was in uncomfortable silence. Warrick wanted nothing more than to reach across the seat and squeeze Catherine's hand in encouragement, but chose not to with Lindsey in the back.

The only talking in the car was when Catherine dropped Warrick off at the lab. She thanked him for his help and told him that she would see him later that night. Warrick said goodbye to Catherine and Lindsey, not overly shocked when the surly teenager refused to acknowledge his statement.

Catherine sped back to her house, taking turns a little sharper then usual. Lindsey didn't speak to her, however, even as they walked into the house.

She stared at her daughter, finally just shaking her head as she tossed her keys on the counter. "I don't even know what to say, Lindsey," Catherine began. "You are out of control. I should have been asleep by now!"

"Like always," Lindsey snarked, starting her trek up the steps. "You act like you never skipped school-"

Ignoring Lindsey, Catherine spoke above her. "Go to your room. You are not to use the phone, computer, or watch television. If I find out that you do you will be in huge trouble!" Catherine called up the stairs.

Lindsey slammed the door in response. Catherine sighed, slamming her fist down on the counter. Catherine regretted the action, shaking her hand as pain shot through it. She was beyond pissed. She should have been asleep at this point, catching up on much needed sleep and not playing detective in searching for her daughter who was skipping school.

Wearily, Catherine trudged up the steps, not even bothering to pull her clothes off as she walked into her room. Instead, she set her alarm and fell face first into her bed.

However, even though her mind was full of anger and images, Catherine fell into a restless yet deep sleep.

~/~

Lindsey Willows was pissed. She left her room once while her mother was sleeping, and that was to make herself some soup for dinner. Her mother would probably bitch her out for eating, but Lindsey didn't care.

She was so angry that she made Rush Limbaugh look tame.

Lindsey glared up at her ceiling, staring at the white paint. Lindsey wondered if her mother would actually stick to this punishment. It wasn't as if Catherine would be able to police her daughter's every move. _You have to actually be home to do something like that,_ Lindsey thought bitterly.

She wanted to cry, but she wasn't about to give her mother the satisfaction of knowing that she got to her.

"This isn't fair!" Lindsey suddenly exclaimed. She sat up, feeling the sudden urge to get a soda out of the refrigerator. She was thirsty, but Lindsey decided that even with her mother being so pissed, she couldn't deprive her of food or drink.

Lindsey got off her bed, slowly opening the door and creeping past Catherine's door and sneaking down the steps. She sighed as she got to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a soda. She longed to grab one of her mother's Coronas, but knowing her mother, she probably would know if one bottle was missing…hell, she would know if it was moved a fraction of an inch!

Lindsey scowled as she opened the soda, taking a long swig. _God, her mother was such a drama queen,_ Lindsey thought to herself. _It's not like I was doing anything criminal!_

Lindsey looked around the kitchen, her eyes settling on her mother's keys. Setting down her can of soda, Lindsey picked up the keys, fingering the shiny black key with the silver Mustang logo.

God, how she longed to drive her mother's new convertible. However, Lindsey had just gotten her permit, and Catherine wasn't ready to hand over the keys to something so fast and expensive to allow her daughter to practice with. Instead, she was resigned to driving her grandmother's beat up Saturn to practice.

Lindsey glanced at the clock, seeing that it read 7:00. Her mother didn't wake up until nine o'clock, or ten at the latest. She could take the Mustang for a short ride, and her mother would never know that she had driven…

She smiled to herself, tossing the keys to her right hand and scurrying out the door. Lindsey quietly pulled the door shut, thinking to herself.

_Mom will never know…_

~/~

Catherine forced her eyes open as her phone rang. She blindly reached a hand out, grabbing her cell phone off her nightstand. She blindly looked at the display, flipping it open she saw it was Jim. "Willows," she answered tiredly.

"Catherine," he said softly. "Where are you?"

She sat up, Jim's tone sending chills down her spine. "I'm in bed, Jim," Catherine answered. She squinted at her alarm clock, noting it was right before ten and that her alarm was about to go off. "What's wrong?"

She heard Jim sighing, and panic rose. "Catherine, it's Lindsey," he said.

"Wha…Lindsey's here, in her room. She's grounded," Catherine told him, confused.

"Uh, no she's not," Jim informed Catherine. "She's here, and she's in trouble."

Catherine closed her eyes, working to control her temper. "What…what happened?" she asked.

"She's okay, Catherine, but…Uh, Lindsey took your car keys, and went for a ride-" Jim started.

"She what?!" Catherine yelled into the phone.

"She was clocked doing 90 in a 55-"

"She _what_?!"

"And then she led the officer on a three mile chase-"

"_SHE WHAT?!"_

"And then she proceeded to sideswipe a concrete barrier and wrecked your car."

"WHAT?!" Catherine yelled, shooting out of the bed. Her feet tangled with the blankets, and Catherine fell gracelessly to the ground. "Where are you?" Catherine asked, the agitation showing in her voice as she struggled to kick the blankets off. "Is she okay?"

Jim rattled off the address, then sighed. "She's fine, Catherine," Jim said. "She's just in a lot of trouble."

"Oh, you bet your ass she is," Catherine muttered.

"I'm sending an officer to your house now," Jim informed Catherine. "He should be there in ten minutes."

"Thanks, Jim," Catherine said with a sigh, slamming her phone shut. She wasn't sure what to expect when she got to the crime scene, but Catherine had a feeling that it was going to be a very long night.

~/~

End 4/?

Uh oh…Lindsey's in troubleeeeee!

Read and review please! 3


	5. Taut

This is kinda gonna be a long pre-(r)amble (thanks for that one, Chris), but I have a few things I'd like to say. First of all, I'd like to acknowledge the untimely deaths of Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, and Michael Jackson. I'm a huge fan of the Tonight Show, and Ed/Johnny's rich history and fun bantering was always fun to see clips of. I am too young for Charlie's Angels, but Farrah's battle with cancer was so valiant that it was heartbreaking to see her lose. Michael Jackson…what is there to say? He was the undeniable King of Pop. I love his music, and I will miss him. All week I've been trying to moonwalk and….yeah. It's kinda funny. May these three greats Rest in Peace.

Second, I would like to thank the kind folks who took the time to review the last chapter: Chris, YoblingDramioneLover, MrsWillows, cutiehooty, lil Kass, Brillows4ever, Aty, wendysam, Wileret, Imagine..soul, and preston-gal. I'm loving that you all are loving the fic, as I am having a lot of fun writing it. Thanks also to the folks that have added me to their alert lists, I appreciate it.

Finally, I'd like to note here that if any of the legal stuff in this chapter (and others) is purely fiction and based on my assumptions of what the law is in these situations. I'm a goody two shoes, and I have no clue what happens half the time when someone gets in trouble, so if it's off, I'm sorry. However, remember that this is merely a work of fiction that comes from my mind (which is scary in itself…shut up Chris).

Now that I'm done boring you all to death, enjoy this chapter and remember to review! =)

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There weren't many things in her life that Catherine was afraid of, but as she strode up to the accident scene, fear gripped her heart. The flashing lights squelched the anger that was coursing through her veins, and she wanted nothing more than to see Lindsey.

Catherine rushed ahead of the officer who had driven her to the accident scene, ducking between the two fire engines. Her eyes frantically searched the area for her daughter.

_My God this is déjà vu. _

She spotted Lindsey sitting in Jim's car, and she determinedly forced her legs to move toward the car even though she feared her legs may collapse beneath her at any moment. Out of the corner of her eye, Catherine saw her Mustang facing the wrong direction on the road, the yellow paint dented on the passenger's side, the airbags blown. Her heart skipped a beat, the older woman wondering if her daughter was truly okay despite Jim's reassurances that she was.

"Excuse me, ma'am, this is an accident scene," a fireman said, holding a hand out and stopping Catherine's movement. "You can't come back here.

"Please, that's my-" Catherine began, only to be cut off when the fireman vehemently shook his head. "Let me by!"

Catherine struggled to push past, only to have the fireman physically block her path. He wrapped his arms around Catherine and started to pull her away from the scene. Her first instinct was to scratch his arms in protest at being physically manhandled, but before she could strike, Jim rushed up to the pair.

"Whoa, Danny," Jim said. "Let her go. She's CSI, and that's her daughter who was in the accident. Let her go!" Catherine felt herself being released, and as soon as she found her feet beneath her, she pushed past Jim and the fireman, her jaw set as she strode towards her daughter. "Hey, Catherine, wait!" Jim called, breaking into a jog to grab her arm, halting her progress yet again.

"Get off of me!" Catherine yelled as she attempted to wrench her arm out of Jim's grasp. "Would you guys stop trying to keep me from my daughter?!"

Jim held tight to her arm. "Catherine! Would you let me talk to you first?" She yanked her arm again, but Jim refused to let go. "Listen to me, Catherine!" Jim felt a drop of water land on his chest, and he sighed. _Of course it's starting to rain, _he groused to himself. "Look-"

"Is she okay?" Catherine cut off Jim. She tried to tug her arm away from Jim's yet again, only to feel frustration when he refused to let go of her. "Jim, is she okay? The car-"

"Lindsey's okay, Catherine. She doesn't have a scratch on her. There's not even a bruise yet from the seatbelt, or burns from the airbags deploying. This could have been a lot-"

Once again, Catherine cut Jim off. "A lot worse, yes, I know. Why are you keeping me from Lindsey?!" she snarled, using her free hand to wipe the rain water from her face.

Jim chuckled, the sound tense in his throat. "I'm…just making sure that you're okay," he finally said.

Catherine rolled her eyes in response. "You just want to make sure that I'm not going to kill her, don't you?" she asked. When Jim didn't reply, she pulled her arm once again. This time, he let go.

She didn't wait for Jim to grab her arm again; instead, she strode purposely towards Jim's car, the Captain close on her heels. Catherine worked to control both her pounding heart and anger.

Lindsey sighed to herself as she saw her mother coming up to her, the look on her mother's face a mixture of wanting to puke and like she was about to strangle her daughter. _Oh, here we go, _Lindsey thought, folding her arms defiantly as she prepared for the onslaught that was sure to come.

Catherine stopped in front of her daughter, shaking her head. "Oh, Lindsey," she said, running a hand through her hair. "What the heck were you thinking?" Lindsey didn't speak; rather, she glared at her mother. "What, cat got your tongue?" Catherine couldn't help but snipe. "You've been nothing but-"

Lindsey made a move to pull the door shut, but Catherine put her hand out to stop the progress. "Leave me-" Lindsey started, only to have Catherine talk over her.

"What, alone?" Catherine finished for her. "Last time I did that, you snuck out and got into an accident. With my brand new car, I might add!"

"So what, the car is more important to you then your daughter?"

"I never said that!" Catherine exclaimed, anger bubbling to the surface.

"You implied it!"

"I did not!"

"You did too!" Catherine opened her mouth to argue, but Lindsey cut her off. "You haven't even asked if I'm okay!"

Catherine froze, realizing that she hadn't directly asked Lindsey if she was indeed alright. "Are you-"

"What do you care?" Lindsey snapped. "All you care about is that fu-"

"Watch your language, young lady!" Catherine said with a warning tone. "I don't know where you learned that type of language, but it wasn't from me and you're not going to curse at me!"

"Okay," Lindsey said sarcastically. "All you care about is that *freaking* car."

"I don't appreciate your tone-"

"I don't appreciate your attitude!"

"-because I'm not the one who defied her mother-"

"You're just the one who isn't acting like a mother!"

"-and went out for a little joyride with-"

"Your damned car, I know!" Lindsey screamed, finally standing up and getting in Catherine's face. "You're such a bi-"

"Don't you dare say it," Catherine warned, pointing a finger at Lindsey. "Don't you DARE say it!"

"Whoa, whoa, ladies!" Jim finally spoke up, stepping between the two quarreling women. "Enough is enough! Relax!"

"This doesn't involve you, Brass," Catherine snapped at the Captain, angling her body away from him and stepping past him to face her daughter again. She brushed her wet hair out of her eyes, defeat weighing heavily on her shoulders. "Look, Lindsey," Catherine said softly. "I'm not mad at you. I mean, I'm upset, but I'm more scared about what could have happened. What you did was stupid, but it was a mistake. The car can be replaced…you can't."

Lindsey breathed heavily, rage causing her to breath heavily as her mother's words ran over her. "Screw you, Mom," Lindsey finally sputtered, sitting down in the car. Catherine blinked, the sound of the car door shutting drawing Catherine out of her trance. Angrily, she stepped toward the car, only to stop when Jim held a hand up.

"Let her be," Brass said softly. Catherine opened her mouth to retort, only to have Jim shake his head. "Catherine? Let her be. I need to talk to you."

Catherine glared at the Captain, crossing her arms. She ignored the twinge of pain in her shoulder at the movement, the sharp pain a reminder of the last accident that her family was in. _Man, my insurance is going to go way up…_Catherine couldn't help but think. She couldn't help the sob mixed with laughter that erupted from her mouth, and Catherine turned away from Brass for a moment to hide the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

"Hey, come on now, Catherine," Jim attempted to soothe, patting Catherine on the shoulder. "It's gonna be okay. Lindsey's fine. Yeah, she's in trouble, but we'll figure it out."

Catherine worked to control her emotions, taking a deep breath before turning back to Jim. There were still tears in her eyes, but she still spoke bravely. "About that…are you arresting her?"

Jim sighed, running hand across his face. "Normally, she'd be on her way to a juvenile prison right now. However, I've pulled a few strings and she's not going to jail. However, she will be expected to attend a court date," Jim told Catherine.

"What is she facing?"

"Reckless driving, failure to yield to an officer, resisting arrest, damaging public property, and speeding," Jim told Catherine apologetically. "Cath, if I could-"

"I know, Jim," Catherine finished for him. If he could have some of the more serious charges dropped, then he would. However, Lindsey had messed up big time, and she was going to pay the price. "What do-" Catherine's phone rang suddenly, and she looked at her display. Her sister's name popped up, and Catherine cursed to herself. Nancy was supposed to be coming over at 11:00 to drop something off, and without Catherine or Lindsey there, she was probably wondering where they were since it was now 11:15.

Catherine turned away from Jim, flipping her phone open. "Hello?" she asked, waiting for the onslaught.

"Cath, where they heck are you guys? I was supposed to meet you at eleven!"

"I know, Nance…look, just listen to me for a second."

Hearing the defeat and exhaustion in her sister's voice, Nancy paused. "Catherine, what's wrong?" she asked. "Are you two okay? Where are you?"

"Lindsey took my car out for a joyride and wrecked it. She's okay," Catherine added quickly. "She's in a lot of trouble, but she's okay."

Nancy sucked in a breath. "Do you need me to do anything?" her sister asked.

"Yeah, actually, could you come get us?" Catherine asked. "I'm going to need a lift to work, then would you mind either staying at the house with Lindsey or taking her to your place until tomorrow? I'm not leaving her alone since she's suspended from school, and I'm going to need to get a rental car when I get off work tomorrow."

"Wait. Why is she suspended?" Nancy asked.

"She cut school yesterday," Catherine simply replied.

Nancy whistled in response. "Where are you guys?"

Catherine rattled off the location, and Nancy promised that she would be there in about twenty minutes. Catherine hung up her phone, immediately flipping it back open. Jim watched her curiously as she waited patiently for the other person to pick up. "Hey, Gil," Catherine said into the phone. "I'm…not good…Well, I'm going to be a little late…Yes, our caseload is huge, I know, but…Gil, look…Gil…Gil! Lindsey was just in a car accident…no, I wasn't driving, she was…no, I wasn't in the car! Gil, would you just listen for a minute?! I'm coming in but I'll probably be a few minutes late. I'll tell you what happened when I get there…okay, thank you…Yes, I'll come to your office as soon as I get there. Bye, Gil."

Catherine hung up the phone again, looking at Brass. "Nancy is on her way here," she told him unnecessarily, flicking her gaze back to the police car.

Jim nodded, unsure of what to say. He noticed Catherine shivering and shrugged his suit jacket off. He placed it over her shoulders, catching her surprised look when she felt the cotton cover her shoulders. "You look cold," Jim said simply.

"I…thank you," Catherine said softly. "I still have your dress shirt."

Jim shrugged, remembering how he had given her his shirt the night that Sam had been murdered. "It's no big deal, Cath. Just get it back to me whenever."

The two stood in silence for several long minutes as Catherine rotated her glance between the ground, the tow truck driver pulling her car up on to the truck, and Lindsey. Her daughter hadn't moved from her position, her shoulders and back rigid as she stared at the back of the seat in front of her. Jim did the same rotation with his eyes, though he cast an occasional wary glance at Catherine.

Finally, Nancy arrived. Jim hustled over to the fireman that had attempted to stop Catherine before and spoke to him. Seconds later, Nancy and Jim walked over to where Catherine still stood.

"Hey, sis," Nancy said softly. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine…" Catherine trailed off, glancing over at Lindsey.

Nancy nodded. "You want to get her and we'll drop you off and I'll take her home?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan," Catherine said with a sigh. She stalked over to the car, opening the door. She startled Lindsey, who jumped and looked at her mother with disdain.

"I don't want to-" Lindsey began, only to stop talking when Catherine held a hand up.

"I don't care," Catherine said. "You're going to be staying with Aunt Nancy tonight, so get moving."

"I don't need a-"

"A what, Lindsey? A babysitter?" Catherine couldn't help but cut her off again. Her temper had flared badly, and her daughter's attitude was getting the best of her. "'Cause judging by the fact that you're not responsible enough to go to school and you defied me, I'd say that you need one! And if I have a say in it, you'll have one until the day you turn eighteen!" Lindsey simply glared in response, and Catherine finished, "Now get a move on it. Aunt Nancy doesn't want to spend the whole night here."

Lindsey muttered something under her breath that Catherine was probably glad she didn't hear, and stood up out of the car. She sulked her way over to Jim and Nancy, ignoring the small smile that her aunt gave her. "Jim, will you let me know what tow yard my car goes to? I need to get a few things out of it tomorrow," Catherine said to the Captain.

"Yeah, Cath, I can do that," Jim replied.

Catherine nodded in response, exhaustion spreading through her body. "Thanks, Jim," she finally said. She shrugged off his suit jacket, handing it back to Jim and shivering as the cool air hit her bare arms.

"Do you want…" Jim started to ask, only to stop when Catherine shook her head.

"No, I don't want to have your entire wardrobe in my locker at work," Catherine answered. "People may start talking. Thank you, though."

"You're welcome. I'll talk to you later, Catherine. Bye, Lindsey," he waited for a response from the teenager, who simply stared angrily at the ground. "Bye, Nancy."

"Bye, Captain Brass," Catherine's sister responded, setting off to her car, Lindsey and Catherine behind her. Lindsey climbed into the backseat of her aunt's car, slamming the door and staring out the window. Catherine followed suit, though she glanced at her sister as she got in the driver's seat.

"Thanks, Nance," Catherine finally said. "I owe you big time."

"No problem, Cat," Nancy answered, setting off to the crime lab. "You need me to stop anywhere first?"

"No, no," Catherine answered.

"You need me to pick you up tomorrow and take you to get a rental?" Nancy asked.

Catherine thought for a moment, and then shook her head. While she was half tempted to drag Lindsey along to do her errands, she figured that she would be able to get done her errands much faster. "No, thanks. I'll probably have one of the guys drop me off or I'll just catch a cab to the place," Catherine said. "I'll try to pick up Lindsey around ten or eleven?"

"That sounds like a plan," Nancy agreed.

The rest of the trip was spent in silence with Catherine and Lindsey staring out their windows and Nancy concentrating on the road. Finally, they arrived at the crime lab.

Catherine sighed to herself when she realized that in her haste to leave the house, she forgot her purse. This meant that she had no money, credit cards, or license. "Shit," Catherine uttered to herself. Thank God she at least had a spare ID Tag in her locker. _Oh well, _she thought. _At least I have my cell phone. If I get a solo, I better do the speed limit, and if I'm partnered, it better be with someone who knows how to drive._

"Thanks, Nancy," Catherine finally said to her sister. "I appreciate everything."

"You're welcome, sis," Nancy said, punching Catherine lightly in the shoulder.

Catherine glanced at Lindsey, not shocked to see her daughter glaring out the window. "Do I need to tell you to listen to what your aunt says?" Catherine couldn't help but snipe at her daughter.

Lindsey merely gritted her teeth and stared out the window, ignoring her mother. Catherine opened her mouth to yell at Lindsey, stopping only when Nancy gently touched her arm. "Don't," Nancy mouthed. She held her sister's gaze before Catherine finally nodded, sparing another glance at her daughter before exiting the car.

Wearily, Catherine made her way into the lab, immediately making her way to Gil's office since she didn't have anything to deposit in her locker. She would grab her ID Tag if she were called out into the field, but for now, she didn't need it. "Hey, Gil," Catherine called as she stepped into the door to his office.

"Hey, Catherine," Gil answered. "Is Lindsey okay?"

"I guess so." Catherine's tone left no room for discussion, though Gil raised an eyebrow in response. "What do we have tonight?"

"I sent Sara and Greg out to investigate a murder-suicide, and Nick is out working a burglary. Warrick's working on a case in evidence," Gil answered.

"What do you have for me?"

"Nothing at the moment," Gil replied.

"Do you care if I take a look at the evidence from the Danielson case some more then? Since I had to leave so abruptly yesterday I never really felt like I got a hand on the case," Catherine admitted.

"That's fine, do what you have to do," Grissom said. "Unless you want to do my paperwork," he added, smirking as he nodded to the pile of papers that were in front of him.

"Very funny," Catherine replied wryly. "I have enough of my own."

Grissom smiled to himself as Catherine left, taking in his friend's appearance. She looked thinner, and exhausted, yet she still managed to smile at him. Lord only knew what was going through her head, with her father's death and daughter's rebellion, yet she was still at work, ready to do her job. Catherine had always been a trooper, that's for sure.

_Either that or she was throwing herself into her work so she didn't have to deal with personal problems…it wouldn't be the first time, _Gil thought to himself. He made a silent vow to himself to keep an eye on Catherine.

Catherine gathered the evidence from the Danielson case, looking for an empty room to spread everything out in front of her. She was so focused that it wasn't until Warrick was physically in front of her that she realized he had been calling her name.

"Sorry, War…I must be having a Catherine moment," Catherine said with a small smile. "You doing okay?"

"I'm good…I heard that Lindsey got into an accident. How'd she convince you to let her drive the Mustang?" he asked. At Catherine's scowl, he frowned. "Oh…"

"Yeah," Catherine replied. "She snuck out while I was sleeping."

"Man," Warrick said. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know," Catherine answered with a shrug. "I mean…she won't talk to me, but Jim said that she didn't have any marks on her. I'm sure she'll be sore in the morning."

"Is the car totaled?"

"I don't know yet," Catherine said again. "I was more worried about Lindsey, even if she doesn't think that I am." Seeing Warrick's confused face, she continued, "We had words at the accident scene. She seems to think I care more about the car then her."

"Wow," Warrick whistled through his teeth. "You need anything?"

"Actually…yeah," Catherine admitted. "Is there anyway you could drop me off at the rental car place about a mile down the road?"

"Of course," Warrick nodded. "You need to go clean out your car, too?"

"Yeah," Catherine said. "I do, but I'll go after I get my rental. I don't want to hold you up anymore than I already am."

Warrick shrugged in response, then said, "You wouldn't be, but okay."

"Thanks, War," Catherine replied gratefully. "I owe you breakfast. Not today though, cause my wallet and purse is currently at home."

"What are you going to do about food?" Warrick asked.

Catherine frowned. "I hadn't thought that far ahead," Catherine admitted. "I'm actually not that hungry, so I'm sure I'll be fine." Seeing the look on Warrick's face, she relented, "Or I'll bum some money off you and pay you back?"

"That's more like it," Warrick said, rubbing Catherine's shoulder. "Have a good night, Catherine. Let me know if you need anything?"

"Of course," Catherine said with a wink before making her way into the evidence room.

She set the box down, rolling up her sleeves with a sigh. She reached into the box, pulling out the photographs from the case. Catherine flipped through the photos, cringing slightly as she looked at the body of Christine Danielson. There was a deep line across her throat where she had been strangled.

Catherine glanced at the telephone wire, frowning. The marks on Christine's neck were tilted downward, meaning that her killer was shorter than her. There was a bruise on her back and rug burn on her knees, meaning that the killer probably forced her to her knees once she started to lose consciousness, and then kneeled or stepped on her back to add pressure.

She found a scrap of clothing that had been clenched in the fingers of Christine Danielson. It didn't match anything that the deceased owned, and it didn't match what her daughter had been wearing.

Catherine sighed to herself, puzzled. She examined the scrap of clothing. There was a pattern to the shirt, though Catherine wasn't sure what the exact pattern was. She remembered seeing a somewhat familiar pattern when shopping with Lindsey for school clothes, which meant that it was very possible that Christine's killer was younger, or very small…small enough to fit in the Junior's clothing. Christine wasn't a very large woman, but Catherine knew that it was very possible for someone larger to be murdered by someone smaller, especially if there was enough rage coursing though the murderer's veins.

She glanced at the next piece of evidence, the actual phone that the telephone wire had been ripped from. Dry blood crusted the edge of the phone. A wound had been discovered on the back of Christine's head, consistent with the fact that she had been hit with the phone from behind. There was also a bruise on the back of her neck that was probably about the same size as the earpiece on the phone…

Briefly, Catherine closed her eyes, thinking. She imagined Christine Danielson sitting in a chair, reading. A book had been found on the table in the room where she had been killed. Maybe she had been reading and was suddenly tired, and placed the book face down and closed her eyes. Catherine pictured an intruder, sneaking up behind Christine and using the phone to hit her in the back of the head and neck before tearing the phone cord out of the phone and choking Christine to death…_A random attack._

Or…

Catherine imagined Christine setting her book down and answering the door, and then arguing with someone for a period of time. Then Christine would turn her back on the person, only to be struck from behind twice and then choked to death…_Someone that she knew…_

She couldn't help but think of Lindsey and the arguments that they had been having lately. Catherine couldn't help the shudder that ran through her body, and she shook her head to herself. For a brief moment, she saw herself struggling with Lindsey, fighting for her life like Christine Danielson surely had…the scrap of clothing grasped between her fingers was proof of that.

_No. Lindsey would never murder me_, Catherine thought vehemently.

And Lillian Danielson didn't kill her mother.

Right?

Catherine thought back to a few nights ago, how Lillian Danielson had attached herself to Catherine. She thought back to how Lillian had grasped her CSI vest, and how her hands seemed to be trembling…

"Oh, no," Catherine said to herself. She vaguely remembered seeing red lines on Lillian's hands, though she didn't really think anything of it at the moment…

_Could Lillian Danielson have killed her mother?_

Catherine took a deep breath, pulling out her cell phone and dialing Brass. "Hey, Jim. Do you know where Lillian Danielson is?" she asked.

"Yeah, she's staying with an aunt," Brass replied. "Why, what's up?"

"I think we need to have a little talk with her," Catherine answered vaguely.

"Well, can you hang around a little longer? I'll get her and her aunt to come to the station around 8:00 and we can do it then," Jim suggested.

"Thanks," Catherine answered distractedly, looking between the picture and the telephone wire. "See you soon."

_God, she hoped her gut instinct was wrong…_

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End 5/?


	6. Tense

Ugh…I owe a ton of apologies for not getting this out sooner. I usually don't like to bore you with the delves of my personal life, but I should explain that last Sunday I woke up and went to brush my hair and suddenly couldn't move the left side of my upper body without this intense pain shooting through my arm and neck (which stems from a stupid injury I got about 4 years ago…seriously, if you are going to eff up your neck, at least have it be something cool, not leaning it against the wall while playing with your 10 year old pug). So, needless to say, Sunday and Monday were spent with the majority of the time having heat on my neck and I finally caved Monday and took a Percocet when I got off of work. That knocks me out, so needless to say I wasn't editing or writing anything. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday were better but I still wasn't up to really doing anything other then dozing on the couch with a heat pad on my neck when I wasn't working. Friday I finally started to feel like myself, but I had other plans for the weekend and yada yada yada. So, long story short, sorry it took me so long, and I really hope you enjoy this chapter.

Thanks to Chris (aka the person who convinced me to forego sleep in order to go have fun in DC one last time!), Wileret, csi Cameron, cutiehooty, Aty, lil Kass, name_me, BraunGirl, YoblingDramoineLover, and Brillows4ever for the wonderful reviews for the last chapter.

This chapter was a little hard to write, and I hope that Gil doesn't seem too much of an ass here. However, Catherine is starting to get really out of control, and he's trying to reel her in before she gets in trouble. I hope that you'll drop me a review to let me know what you think!!!!

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Catherine watched from her office as Brass led Lillian Danielson and her aunt into an interrogation room. Lillian looked confused and anxious about the early morning wake up call, as did her aunt, who had been appointed Lillian's guardian when Christine had died.

She sighed as she grabbed the file for the case and walked out of her office, meeting Jim as he came out of the interrogation room. "Hey, Cath," he greeted her, tired lines evident at his eyes after a night on the streets that had started ten hours ago with Lindsey's accident. "How's Lindsey?"

"Okay, I suppose," Catherine answered with a shrug. "I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet." She realized how that must have sounded…that she hadn't even called to make sure that her daughter was okay after getting into a car wreck. Catherine made a mental note to call after the interrogation to update Nancy on where she stood and to see how Lindsey was.

Jim nodded in response, sensing that Catherine didn't want to talk about her daughter. "So what do you have here?" Jim asked.

"A gut instinct at the moment," Catherine admitted. Brass gave her a look of disbelief, and Catherine rushed to explain herself before the Captain could reprimand her for bringing in a suspect on a gut instinct and not actual evidence. "Look, Brass, when Lillian let go of her mother and grabbed my vest, I noticed that she had red lines on her hands. I thought that it was from holding her body or something, but I am willing to bet that those lines were from holding the phone wire against her throat."

"Did you photograph her hands?"

"There wasn't a reason to."

Jim ran a hand over his closely shaved hair. "Is it possible that the lines are still on her hands?"

"If it broke the skin, yes, but I don't remember seeing blood."

Jim frowned. "So, what are you going to do, go in there and accuse her of murder without anything to back it up?" he asked.

"I don't know, Jim," Catherine admitted. "Her alibi just doesn't add up, either. She claims she got in half an hour before midnight; her neighbor claims she was dropped off at about 9:45 and the outside light was shut off. I just need to go in there and talk to her. If there's no trace of the wire imprint on her hands, then we need to take a look at her clothing."

"Why?"

"There was a scrap of fabric in between Christine's fingers that looks just like clothing that I saw when shopping with Lindsey," Catherine explained. "If it matches the clothing that we may find in Lillian's room, then that's a direct connection right there."

"And how do you plan to get a warrant, Catherine?"

"I have a judge who owes me a huge favor," Catherine answered with a grim smile.

Jim shook his head, not even wanting to know what the judge owed Catherine for. "How do you want to play this?" he asked her.

"Follow my lead?" she requested.

Jim looked over Catherine, noting to himself that she looked tired, thinner, and like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. But her eyes still held that fiery spark of determination that he had become instantly charmed with nearly 20 years ago when she was a rookie CSI Level One. "All right," he finally agreed, leading the way to the heavy door. Catherine was a great CSI, and he trusted her instincts more then anyone on the team with the possible exception of Gil.

Catherine nodded in respect to the Captain, walking to the door behind Jim. They had such a close working relationship that it didn't bother him when Catherine…or any of the CSI's for that matter…took over in interrogation. He trusted them, and they trusted him to have their backs if something were to go wrong.

Jim held open the door for Catherine, and she murmured her gratitude to the Captain as she focused at the task at hand. She entered the room, taking note in the way that Lillian and her aunt's eyes both nervously flashed toward Catherine and Jim as soon as they crossed the threshold.

"What going on here?" Christine's sister was the first to speak up. "Do you know who killed my sister?"

Catherine cleared her throat softly, sitting across the table from Lillian and her aunt as Jim leaned up against the wall. "I can't disclose information about the case, Mrs. Johnson, I'm sorry," Catherine finally responded. "I actually asked you to come out today because I have some questions for Lillian."

At the mention of her name, Lillian looked up nervously. "Wh-what about me?" she asked.

"Wait, do I need to have a lawyer present for this?" Mrs. Johnson spoke up as Catherine opened her mouth to continue.

Catherine hesitated. She hadn't expected Lillian's aunt to question about an attorney. She had to be very careful about this to make sure that it didn't sound like she was telling Mrs. Johnson not to get a lawyer. That would lead her down the fast track of getting any evidence thrown out that they may find. Catherine glanced at Brass, then stated, "You do have the right to an attorney, but technically, no one is under arrest here. If you do want an attorney, then it may take awhile to get one here."

Mrs. Johnson stared at Catherine for a long time, who sat, unblinking under the woman's unnerving gaze. "For now, I'll allow this," she finally said.

Catherine nodded in appreciation, and then turned to Lillian. "Lillian…I'm sorry that it's come to this, but there are a few questions that I need to ask you," she said softly.

Lillian nodded, crossing her arms defensively. "What do you need ask me?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her tone.

Catherine leaned forward, resting her elbows on the edge of the table. "You can start by recounting your evening for me."

"I told you, I went to the movies with my friend and came home to find my mother dead on the floor," Lillian snapped, her mood changing from apprehensive to surly in seconds like only a teenager's could. "I already told you this!"

"About what time was this?" Catherine asked, ignoring the attitude that the teenager was giving her.

"About 11:30," Lillian responded. "Why are you making me relive this?!"

"I spoke with your neighbors, and he remembers seeing the light on your porch going off at about 9:45," Catherine said. "Your lights don't go off automatically; you have to physically shut them off."

"Maybe my mother shut the light off!" Lillian answered. "She-"

"The lights went right off after a car that looks just like your boyfriend's left the premises," Catherine pointed out.

Lillian stared back at Catherine, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as her aunt looked at her with a surprised look on her face. "Lillian…what is she saying?" Mrs. Johnson asked nervously. She looked at Catherine her eyes wide. "What-"

Her niece cut her off. "She's lying," Lillian said simply.

"I'm not the one lying," Catherine countered smoothly. "Your neighbor apparently is."

"Then arrest him!" Lillian cried. "Isn't it a law to lie to the police?"

Catherine couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. "Honey, this isn't television," she said. "Things don't work like that."

"Then quit jerking me around!"

"Can I see your hands?" Catherine asked, ignoring her last statement.

"What? Why?" Lillian snapped, clenching her hands and drawing them into her lap.

"Because I asked?" Catherine replied simply.

"I don't have to if I don't want to!" Lillian exclaimed.

"Wow, you're quite the brat, aren't you?" Catherine couldn't help but state. "What do you have to hide, Lillian?"

"Nothing!" she responded. "I just…I'm not showing my hands to you because you are trying to frame me or something!"

"Frame you for what?"

"For my mother's death!"

"You really don't seem that broken up about it," Catherine noted, leaning back in her chair. "Got something to hide?"

Lillian slammed her hands down on the table, and Catherine jumped involuntarily at the loud noise. "This is bullshit!" Lillian yelled.

Catherine slammed her hands down as well, shooting to her feet as she met Lillian's glare with one of her own. Jim took a cautionary step forward, ready to restrain the young woman facing Catherine if necessary. "You need to watch your language, young lady," Catherine started.

"You're not my mother!" Lillian all but screeched as she stood to get into Catherine's face. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"Hey, you know what, I may not be your mother, but right now, Lillian, I am in charge. So sit down or Captain Brass will make you," Catherine said calmly.

Lillian crossed her arms in defiance, staring down Catherine. "I'd prefer to stand."

"Lillian, please, sit down," her aunt begged, tugging on the girl's arm. Lillian glared at her then sat.

"Thank you," Catherine said amicably, sitting down as well. "Lillian…I think I know what happened the other night. Why don't you do yourself a favor and tell me what really happened?"

Lillian glared across the table at Catherine. "I already told you what happened," she hissed. "I went to the movies, I got home, and my mother was lying on the ground, dead. I called 911, and then I gathered her into my arms until the cops came."

Catherine frowned, propping her chin on her hand. "See, Lillian, that sounds like a good story, but I think that's all it is," she said with a shrug. "You want to know what I think happened?"

"No, I don't," Lillian sighed. "But do I have a choice?"

"No, not really," Catherine answered with a smirk. "I think that you came home and got into an argument with your mother. She really ticked you off, so, in a fit of rage, you slammed her in the back of the head with the phone, and then took the cord and wrapped it around her throat until she stopped struggling. She got a piece of your shirt, and then in a panic, you changed your shirt and called 911, claiming that you had just gotten home and found your mother dead. Then, you put on the dramatics for all of us." When Lillian didn't respond, Catherine finished, "I must say that you had all of us fooled, including my supervisor, and trust me when I say that he is pretty hard to fool."

Lillian stared at Catherine, a smile creeping on her face. "That's a good story, Ms. Willows," she said. "Too bad you can't prove it."

Catherine matched Lillian's smile with one of her own. "I may not be able to prove it right now, but I'm going to be getting a warrant," she informed Lillian. "And you know what that warrant will let me do?"

"What's that?"

"It's going to let me find that shirt that I know that you changed out of, and you're going to have to explain why a piece of your shirt is in your mother's grasp when she was dead when you found her," Catherine replied simply, picking up her file and standing up. "So, I'll let you sit on that while I go find the evidence that is going to nail you."

Lillian watched Catherine stride away, and then spoke up once the investigator had her hand on the door. "Where's your daughter?"

Catherine whirled around, anger flashing in her eyes when the teenager mentioned Lindsey. "That's none of your business," Catherine finally replied.

"You don't know where she is, do you?"

"Again, I repeat: that's none of your business." Catherine hated to admit it, but Lillian's question rattled her. "I'll see you again when I find that shirt." She again turned to leave, only to freeze when Lillian spoke again.

"I don't know who I feel worse for…you or your daughter." When she saw Catherine's back stiffen, Lillian continued her verbal attack. "You're a pathetic old woman trying to hang on to her youth, and I'm willing to bet that you don't pay one bit of attention to your daughter."

Catherine turned on her heel, crossing the room in two long strides and slamming her hands on the table for the second time in minutes, leaning her face close in to bring her nose within inches of Lillian Danielson's. "You…do not know me, and you do not know my daughter. You may have nothing to lose, but I'm not going to sit here and let you talk about me or my daughter!"

Lillian didn't flinch as her brown eyes stared into Catherine's stormy blue ones. "Did I strike a nerve?" she asked casually.

Catherine felt her heart slamming against her ribcage, and she struggled to keep her anger from completely bubbling to the surface. "You…" she swallowed, fighting her temper. "You are a spoiled little brat who couldn't even face her mother. Instead, you did the most cowardly thing possible: you hit your mother from behind and then you murdered her."

"You can't prove it," Lillian said with a shrug, and it took all of Catherine's will not to leap across the table at the teenager.

"Give me a few hours, and I'll be meeting you back here to inform you that you are on your way to booking," Catherine answered, pushing off the table and making her way to the door.

"We'll see about that," Lillian called, her voice muffled when Catherine slammed the door behind Brass.

Catherine ran a hand through her hair, attempting to fight the fury that was overtaking her body before turning to Brass. He had an astonished look on his face, but Catherine just shook her head. "Judge David Williams," she finally said to him. "Tell him you are getting the warrant for me, and there shouldn't be a problem." Jim raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to reply. "Just…don't go there, Jim," Catherine shook her head, spinning on her heel to attempt to get some sort of control before they went back to the Danielson house in order to find the shirt.

Brasss simply stared after her, not knowing what to say.

~/~

Catherine paced impatiently in front of Christine Danielson's house, waiting for Brass to show up. Her adrenaline was still flowing, and she itched to get into the house and find the ripped t-shirt that she knew would nail Lillian Danielson to the wall.

Her phone rang, and distractedly, she flipped it open. "Willows," she said tensely, glancing at the officer Brass had sent to accompany her leaning against his car.

"Did you stand me up?"

Catherine blinked at Warrick's question, glancing at her watch. It was a little after 10:00, and she had totally forgotten that she had agreed to get a lift from him to the car rental place. "Shit, War," she finally said softly. "I'm sorry. I'm actually at a scene right now, waiting for Brass to get here with a warrant."

"It's okay, Catherine," Warrick responded. "Do you need a hand?"

"Nah, we're just looking for a shirt, hopefully it won't take that long," Catherine replied. "I appreciate it, though."

"You want me to wait for you?" he asked.

Just then, Brass pulled up, holding up the warrant triumphantly through the window of his squad car. Catherine flashed him a brief smile, then told Warrick, "Nah, I appreciate it, but I'm going to process the shirt, if I find it."

Warrick hesitated for a minute, then asked, "You're sure?"

"Yeah, Warrick, I don't want to hold you anymore. I'll catch a cab or something," Catherine said. "Thanks for the offer."

"No problem, Cath. I'll see you tonight?"

"You know it." With that, Catherine hung up. "Hey!" she called to Brass. "You got it?"

"I got it. We're limited to Lillian's room and the laundry room, but that's it," Brass told Catherine.

"Hopefully the shirt is in one of those two rooms," Catherine said with a sigh. It hadn't crossed her mind that they may be restricted, and now that they were, she was worried that they may not find the shirt in question.

"What exactly are we looking for, Catherine?" Brass asked her as they followed the officer into the house.

"A teenager's grey shirt that is torn and missing a chunk of fabric," Catherine replied, making her way up the steps. "I hope that her room isn't as messy as Lindsey's…"

Catherine flinched as she looked in Lillian Danielson's room, seeing clothes, CD's, books, and Lord only knew what else on the floor. It looked as if a tornado ran through the room. Brass glanced over her shoulder, and then looked down at Catherine. "Is it as messy?" he asked.

"No, it's worse, and I didn't think that was possible," Catherine answered with a sigh as she pulled on a pair of gloves. She stepped into the room, stepping over a book. She stuck out her arms for balance, glancing back at Brass. "You want to look in the laundry room, and I'll stay in here?"

"Sure, Cath, that sounds good," Brass answered. "Let me know if you find anything?"

"Of course," Catherine said. She turned back to mess before her, sighing as she looked around.

An hour later, she sighed in frustration. She had torn apart the room and had found marijuana, Ecstasy, and a needle, but not the shirt just yet. It gave her a little bit of satisfaction to know that Lillian would at least be busted for drugs, but she needed that damn shirt in order to pin the murder on her. Catherine glanced at Lillian's bed, which was pushed up against the wall.

She frowned, realizing that she hadn't looked between the cracks of the bed and the wall; in fact, that was probably the only place Catherine hadn't looked. Catherine walked up to the bed, carefully kneeling on the mattress as she looked over the edge of the bed.

Catherine cringed when she saw the empty potato chip bags and candy wrappers littering the floor, praying that there weren't any bugs crawling around there. A hopeful look flashed across her eyes when she saw a scrap of fabric lying on the ground. Using her thumb and middle finger, she lifted the shirt, joy rushing through her when she saw that it was the same color as the fabric that was found in Christine's grasp.

"Bingo!" Catherine murmured when she saw that there was a scrap of fabric missing. For a brief moment, she imagined Lillian wrapping the telephone wire around Christine's neck and yanking as hard as she could, the mother struggling and tearing a piece of the shirt off before finally giving into the struggle to breathe.

Brass walked up to the door. "Hey, Cat, no luck in the laundry room-" he started, only to stop when Catherine held up the shirt.

"I found the smoking shirt," she told him with a grin.

~/~

Catherine glanced at her watch, sighing. It was now a little past noon, and the exhaustion was starting to set in. However, she needed to drop off the shirt that she had found in Lillian's room, and while Catherine was tired, she was also wired and had a feeling that she was going start processing the shirt for evidence.

She sighed as she made her way through the halls, rolling her neck in order to loosen the tension that had settled. Catherine nodded to the dayshift supervisor, making her way to an empty evidence room.

"Willows! My office, now!" Catherine jumped slightly at the angry voice that startled her, turning around and meeting the irate gaze of Gil Grissom.

Catherine frowned when she saw his face, changing the direction of her path as she made her way to Gil's office. He slammed the door behind her, causing the pictures on his shelves to rattle. _Uh oh…_ Catherine thought. She didn't remember ever seeing Gil this pissed…

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Gil laid into Catherine the second the door shut.

"Gil, what are you-"

"Do not even go there, Willows!" Gil yelled. "You know what I'm talking about!"

Catherine raised an eyebrow, the evidence bag dangling at her fingers cluing her into what brought upon Gil's wrath. "Oh, you've been talking to Lillian Danielson," she said casually.

"You're damn right I've been talking to her!" Gil snarled. "I talked to Brass, too, as well as everyone else who heard your little screaming match _with a fourteen year old! _So I'll repeat myself: what the hell were you thinking?"

Catherine scratched her neck, sighing to herself. She hated when Gil was mad at her, though their fights never lasted long. Even when he had laid into her for cashing Sam's check a few years back, he hadn't stayed mad for very long, and vice versa. After Eddie had been murdered, Catherine had been upset at Gil and sought comfort from Warrick and Nick, but eventually they had been okay…

"What, you have nothing to say?" Gil scoffed. "I find that hard to believe!"

Catherine's head snapped up, her eyes hardening at Gil's words. "I was thinking that I want to close this damn case, and I just may right now!" she snapped, holding up the bag that held the shirt that was missing a scrap of cloth.

"Uh huh," Gil replied, unimpressed. "And how did you get this evidence?"

"The same way I get all my evidence, Gilbert. Through a warrant!"

"And how did you get that warrant?"

"Through a judge," Catherine stated. "What the hell is this, Grissom? Basic Evidence Gathering 101?"

"On what grounds did you get the warrant?" Grissom ignored her smart answer, crossing his arms as he stared at her.

"I…had a judge who owed me a favor," Catherine admitted. "But Lil-"

"Oh, that's just terrific, Catherine!" Gil exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "So when I talk to Conrad about the fact that Lillian Danielson and her aunt are threatening to sue you and the department-"

"Wait, hold up!" Catherine shook her head and held up a hand simultaneously. "She's threatening to sue?"

"Yes."

"For what?!"

"Oh, harassment, badgering, threatening a minor," Gil ticked the items off with his fingers. "I'm sure that we can add 'obtaining a piece of evidence on a faulty warrant' to that list as well!"

Catherine lifted the bag in her hand, glancing at it before swinging her gaze back to Gil's red face. "This was not obtained on a faulty warrant!" she growled. "The warrant was legal, and besides, it doesn't even matter how we got the warrant! That's not information that can be disclosed to the defense or jury!"

"It doesn't matter, Catherine!" Gil replied, exasperated. "When…_if_…this goes to court, the jury is going to think that you had it in for Lillian Danielson and they are going to end up finding her not guilty!"

"Gil, this evidence-"

He cut her off almost instantly. "Don't you get it, Catherine?!" He threw up his hands. "All it's going to take is one person who thinks that you bullied this girl who just lost her mother, and she'll go free, _especially _if she decides to sue the department! Is that what you want?!"

Catherine swallowed, finally seeing Gil's point. "I just want her to pay for what she did to her mother," she meekly said.

"We all do, Catherine," Gil said with a sigh, the anger seemingly flying out of his body. "We all do."

"What was I supposed to do?" Catherine asked. "I did the only thing I could. I followed my gut, and we got this evidence. What's the problem?"

"The problem," Gil started, "Is that we don't get convictions around here based on gut instincts. This is the top lab in the country, and we get convictions based on evidence and testimony from people who know or saw what happened!"

"What should I have done then?" Catherine repeated. "Should I have let a murderer walk free?! She's fourteen years old, Grissom! She'll kill again!"

"You should have waited until you had more evidence before you called in on your little favor from a judge who owed you."

"But-"

"You screwed up, Willows," Gil cut her off, sitting down in his chair, tugging off his glasses and placing them on his desk. "There's no doubt in my mind that this is probably the stupidest thing that you've ever done. I may have to write you up, and you better pray that whatever evidence you collected from that house sticks. Lillian Danielson now has an attorney, and he is already raising hell about your interrogation methods as well as the way you obtained your warrant."

Catherine sighed, running a hand across her face as she turned away from him. Her legs were shaking, and she feared that they were about to collapse underneath her. She felt tears spring to her eyes, and she wiped her arm against them in an attempt to stop them. "Is that all, Grissom?" she finally managed to ask, dangerously close to losing it.

"One more thing, CSI Willows," Grissom growled. She turned her face to him, the hurt in her eyes lying beneath the fury. "Get a grip. I know that you are having trouble with your daughter, but if you ever bring your personal problems into this office again and use that anger to try to get a person to confess, then you will be suspended. Do you understand?"

Catherine's face must have been akin to a fish, because she felt her jaw drop at these words. She even sputtered before she formed words. "How dare you-" she started, only to stop when Grissom put up a hand.

"You're dismissed," he simply stated, turning his back on her.

Catherine resisted the urge to throw the evidence at the back of his head and simply turned, walking out the door and to an evidence room.

Her car and daughter could wait.

She had to find a way to make sure that the evidence stuck...

~/~

End Part 6/?


	7. Truth

Howdy. I don't really have anything witty to say. No injuries/anything to report so I guess that is always a good thing! Oooh, wait. I can pimp my Wilston one-shot. It's called Mere Minutes and you can find it with my other works!

Thanks to Chris (who enjoys completely random [and hilarious!] LM's as much as I do), csi cameron, Nick'sGirlT, aty, BraunGirl, Dan (you pwning bastard, you), name_me, YoblingDramoineLover, lil Kass, and Wileret for the awesome feedback. I can't tell if half of you want to kill me or Gil, so I'm just going to slowly back out of the room now, especially when you get to the latter half of the story…

Thanks BIG TIME to Taylor for beta-ing. You are incredible and I appreciate all your support and comments. That's pretty much it, except I know that you all know that I love feedback, so please take a moment to drop a line.

Enjoy!

~/~

Catherine walked into the lab with three minutes to spare, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. She had finally gotten home around six o'clock after processing Lillian's shirt and running errands for most of the afternoon. She had gotten to the car rental office when she realized that her wallet and license was at home. Cursing, Catherine had backtracked before returning to the place, only to find that the line had doubled in the time she had been away. By the time it was her turn to get a rental car, the only things they had left were a Ford Taurus and a Mercedes Benz. Whatever it was, it was apparently fast. For a brief second, Catherine imagined herself speeding down the strip, taking turns at fifty miles per hour and leaving tire tracks on the street…

Then she took the keys to the Taurus.

She had spent the rest of the afternoon talking – arguing – with the insurance company, trying to explain what had happened and to get someone out to look at her car to see if it was totaled. Catherine cringed at the thought of her car insurance skyrocketing, but there really wasn't anything else she could do at this point.

Once she picked up Lindsey, the two had gotten into another verbal spat, and after Catherine ordered her to her room, she too had retreated, only to nearly fall face first into bed minutes before seven o'clock. She had gotten just shy of four hours of sleep before she finally forced her tired body up to take a shower and head to work.

Catherine didn't feel right…her body was exhausted from a lack of sleep, and her brain was in overdrive from both her personal and work problems. She hated that she and Gil had gotten into an argument so severe that he threatened to suspend her. She felt somewhat reprimanded and sheepish as she made her way through the halls, knowing that the rumor mill was in full force and that everyone had an opinion about what had happened with Gil and his second-in-command.

She made her way into the locker room, opening her locker quickly and depositing her purse into it. Catherine strapped on her gun holster and ID badge and quickly made her way to the break room where Gil was starting to hand out assignments.

"It's nice that you could join us, CSI Willows," Gil said sarcastically when she tried to sneak in the door unnoticed.

Catherine flushed at his words when the entire team looked at her. Anger flared through her body and she replied just as sarcastically, "Thank you, Supervisor Grissom." She glanced at her watch: 12:02 AM.

The two shared a steely glare before Greg finally spoke up. "Uh, Grissom, you going to hand out the assignments?" he asked nervously.

Grissom glared at Greg before turning his attention to the slips in his hand. "Warrick, you, Greg, and Sara have a double murder," he started, handing the slip to Warrick, "And Nick, you are with me on a floater. Willows, you have a robbery of a gas station." He thrust the paper at her, and Catherine snatched it from his fingers. "You are all dismissed," Gil said before turning to Catherine.

"Willows, I need to talk to you," he said stiffly as the grave shift team filed out of the room.

Catherine shook her head, the venom in her voice evident as she spat, "You know what, Grissom, would you stop calling me that? I know that you are pissed and all but can you stop acting like a child?! I screwed up, yes, but in the end, I got evidence. Are you going to hold this against me for the rest of my life?"

Gil stared at Catherine, taking a deep breath. "Catherine, after you get back from your scene, you have a meeting with Ecklie, and then you have one with McKeen. Please give Ecklie a call when you are leaving your scene," he said.

Catherine rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she clenched the slip of paper with the address for her crime scene in her fist. _This is getting ridiculous,_ she fumed to herself. Taking a breath to calm herself, she asked Gil, "Will that be all?"

"Yes, it will," Gil said, turning on his heel and shuffling out of the break room. Catherine glared after him before stalking out of the room. She grabbed her kit and camera from her office and made her way to the robbery, muttering under her breath the whole time.

The time at the scene was minimal, so minimal that it took her longer to get there and back then the time she actually spent collecting evidence. Catherine found herself desperately needing coffee before heading back to the lab to face Ecklie and McKeen. Making sure that her evidence was secure, she ran into a twenty-four hour coffee shop to grab the largest coffee possible.

Catherine was surprised to see Warrick standing at the counter, the tall man watching as the cashier poured three large cups of coffee.

"Hey, Rick," Catherine called.

Warrick turned, smiling at the redhead as she sauntered into the shop. "Hey, Cath, how are you?" he asked.

"I'm okay, just need something to get me through the next few hours," she answered with a shrug. "I got a couple of meetings scheduled."

"What did you do?" Warrick asked. "Thanks, man," he said to the cashier, waiting for Catherine to place her order.

"I'll take a vente coffee with a double shot of espresso," Catherine told the cashier, handing over a ten dollar bill. She waited until the cashier handed her back her change, then told Warrick, "I kinda bullied Lillian Danielson in interrogation, and got a warrant under means that Gil didn't approve of, and now he's pissed at me."

"Oh, wow," Warrick said. "Give him some time, he'll get over it."

"I know, it just sucks, at the moment because he's being…well, he's being a jerk. Thanks," Catherine told the waitress before turning with Warrick to go to the counter so she could load her coffee with milk and sugar. She set her cup down, and Warrick did the same as he loaded up the cup holder with creamer, sugar, and sweetener packets.

"How's Lindsey doing?" Warrick asked, watching as Catherine poured a sizable amount of milk into her coffee.

"She's…Lindsey," Catherine responded. "She and I had it out before I went to bed last night. I didn't sleep well at all."

Warrick made sound deep in his throat. "Have you ever thought about getting her counseling?"

Catherine sighed, reaching across him to get some sugar. "I don't know, Rick," she began, only to squeak when her feet suddenly shot out from under her thanks to a wet spot on the floor.

It was Warrick's quick reflexes that kept Catherine from hitting the floor, as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Catherine fought to find the ground beneath her, and Warrick held her steady until her feet were stable. "Whoa, you okay there?" Warrick asked, concerned.

"Other then the fact that I feel ridiculous for almost falling on my ass, I'm fine," Catherine answered, settling a hand on his arm. The back of her mind pointed out how natural that it felt to be in his arms, and she added, "Thanks for catching me there."

Warrick nodded, his mind focused on how…right it felt to have her body pressed against his. He stared down at her, painfully aware of the fact that his lips were mere inches from hers, that they had been in this very same position just two years ago, except at the bottom of a drainage ditch.

Catherine cleared her throat, and Warrick blinked, helping her stand flat on her feet before reluctantly letting go. "You good?"

"I'm fine," she answered, running a hand through her hair. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Warrick said. He glanced outside, seeing Sara and Greg talking – or more like arguing, probably – in his Denali. "Look, Cath, I better get back. I'll see you sometime tonight, right?"

"As long as I'm not being held hostage by Ecklie or McKeen answering the same questions over and over, yes," Catherine answered with a chuckle. "See you soon."

"See ya, babe," Warrick said, winking at Catherine on the way out.

Catherine watched him go, not paying attention as she stirred her coffee. Something was happening between the two of them…she had felt something spark when she had slipped and he had caught her…hell, even _before _that.

Catherine had to admit that it was a great feeling, though.

~/~

"So you are telling me that the warrant you obtained was legal?"

"For the fourth time, Ecklie, yes," Catherine answered, the frustration finally evident in her voice. "No matter how many times you ask me, it will be the same answer!"

"Catherine, I'm just covering all bases, and you know it," Ecklie countered. Catherine opened her mouth to protest, but Ecklie cut her off. "Did you ever threaten Lillian Danielson while in interrogation or at any other point?"

"No, I did not," Catherine answered.

"Can you tell me what was said in the interrogation?"

Catherine felt her blood pressure slowly rising, but she nevertheless replied, "I asked her about her whereabouts the night that her mother was murdered, and picked apart her story. Then, I offered my theory about what may have happened, and she asked me where my daughter was."

"What did you do?"

"I told her that that was none of her business, and I left the interrogation room."

"At any point did you call Lillian Danielson any names?"

"I did call her a brat." Catherine sighed at the disapproving look that crossed Ecklie's face, and she hastily added, "After she refused to answer my questions, that is."

"Catherine…" Ecklie trailed off, placing two fingers against his temple in an attempt to stem off the headache that was threatening. He looked like he wanted to chastise her, but he continued, "How did you obtain the warrant?"

"Jim got it."

"And how did Jim get it?"

"There was a judge that owed me a favor," Catherine began. "However, the fact that the shirt scrap found in Christine Danielson's fingers matched patterns that are found in the Junior's section of the local shops was enough to convince the judge to get a warrant."

Ecklie nodded, sighing as he tossed his pen on the desk in front of him. "Catherine…honestly, what were you thinking? Were you even thinking?" he asked.

Catherine blinked, unsure of how to answer Ecklie's question. He seemed defeated, like he didn't know what to do or say to the woman who sat across from him. "I'm…not sure what you mean, Ecklie," she finally answered.

"Catherine, you went into an interrogation without much evidence and proceeded to bully a suspect," Ecklie began, only to hold up a hand when Catherine started to protest. "No, listen to me. No matter how you look at it, you went in there angry with the sole intent on bullying Lillian Danielson into admitting that she killed her mother."

"But Ecklie…I found the evidence that is going to nail her! What does it matter?" Catherine argued.

"It matters because this lab doesn't condone those types of methods," he answered.

Catherine slumped in her chair slightly. _This is all a huge mess…_ She thought to herself. "What should I do then?" she asked miserably.

"My suggestion?" Ecklie waited until Catherine was looking at him, and then said, "Get her to plead out. If this goes to trial, then there's a very good chance that she will make sure that you are picked apart in court, and with your…past, I'm sure that that is the last thing you want." Catherine's eyes flashed, and before she could rip into him, Ecklie finished, "Get her to take a lesser sentence."

Catherine fumed for a minute, resisting the urge to throw something at the man sitting across from her. "Are we finished here?" she questioned stiffly.

"We are," Ecklie confirmed. "You're dismissed."

Catherine shot out of her chair and exited the room without a goodbye, wiping a hand across her brow. She felt like her face was on fire, and at any moment she was going to start crying, she just knew it…

"Catherine!" She slammed her eyes shut, working to control her emotions when she heard Warrick call her name. Taking a deep breath, Catherine turned around, plastering a smile on her face.

It melted off her face when she saw Warrick striding toward her, a rolled up newspaper in his hand and a serious look on his face.

"What's wrong?" Catherine asked, alarmed. Warrick grabbed her elbow, steering her away from the hallway and into an empty evidence room. "Warrick, what-"

"Catherine…you haven't seen the paper yet, have you?"

"No, why? Did something happen?" Catherine questioned, confused. Wordlessly, Warrick handed her the paper. Catherine glanced at him before reading the headline staring up at her in dark, bold letters.

_CSI: Who Needs to Solve Crimes When You Have Love?_

"That bitch!" Catherine swore. She didn't even need to read the name of the author to know that Kay Peterson was behind this story. "I will kill her!"

"Tell me about it," Warrick groused.

Catherine flicked her gaze to him, then back at the paper. There was a picture staring back at her taken in the early hours of the morning when they had met in the coffee shop, Warrick holding Catherine up after she had nearly fallen on the ground. She hated to admit it, but the way they were looking at each other in the photo made it look as if they were extremely cozy, if not deep in love…

She skimmed the article, rolling her eyes as she read it. Apparently, Kay Peterson was challenging the lab's no dating rules, saying that she and Warrick had been carrying on an affair for months now, and that the lab turned a blind eye to her antics. Peterson even brought up Catherine's past, noting that she was an ex-stripper, and in very few words suggested that she had gotten her job by sleeping her way to the top. Warrick hadn't been spared, as Peterson somehow found out that he had been addicted to gambling…

"God, Warrick, I'm so sorry. This bitch is fu…freaking obsessed with me, and just cause of the fact that I wouldn't give her a damn interview" Catherine growled, wiping her brow. "I swear to God, she's messing with the wrong person here!"

"Hey, Cath, it's not your fault." Warrick still sounded pissed, though, Catherine couldn't help but notice. She didn't dare look at him, instead choosing to read the rest of the article. She debated whether it would be better to look up at Warrick or not, as the rest of the article chronicled her recent battles with Lindsey and her father's death, ending with the question of 'whether or not Catherine Willows was a loose cannon with a gun.'

"God…" Catherine murmured. "Has Gil seen this yet?"

"I don't know. Nicky passed it off to me, and as I was walking down the hall reading it, there were a few people looking at me," Warrick said. "I'm sure he'll be searching for us before shift is over…"

Catherine nodded, glancing at her watch. "We only have half an hour left, do you think that we can avoid-"

She stopped talking when Gil passed the open door and glanced in, backtracking when he saw the duo standing there. Catherine hastily put the paper behind her back, and Warrick instinctively stepped away from her.

"Willows, Brown, we need to talk. My office, now!" Gil snapped, turning on his heel.

Warrick glanced down at Catherine, sighing. "I think he saw it," he couldn't help but point out.

Catherine glared at him, following Gil to his office. She could practically see the steam coming out of his ears, and she slumped into the office. She wanted to groan when she saw Ecklie sitting there as well as the sheriff. _God, what a fucking mess…_

"Willows, Brown, I'm not even going to sugarcoat this," Ecklie began the second Gil shut the door. "Are you two involved in a personal relationship?"

"No!" Warrick exclaimed at the same time Catherine sputtered, "Absolutely not!"

"This picture says otherwise," the sheriff stated.

"I had just slipped, and Warrick caught me," Catherine explained.

"You two look awful…cozy."

"It just looks romantic," Warrick protested. "I just held her for a moment to make sure that she got her feet beneath her. There is nothing-"

"This photo was taken this morning," Grissom cut off Warrick. "Why did you two meet at a coffee shop while on shift?"

Catherine glowered at him, and then spat, "We didn't meet there, Grissom! We happened to bump into each other while stopping for coffee. Sara and Greg were in the truck waiting for-"

"Willows, what is Ms. Peterson referring to in her article about you 'fraternizing on the clock' with club owners?" Ecklie interrupted her.

Catherine sighed, fighting her temper as she responded, "A few years ago, I began dating a club owner-"

"During an investigation?" the sheriff interrupted her.

"No, after!" Catherine replied. "I broke it off with him."

"Why?" the sheriff questioned.

"Because I caught him fucking another woman in his nightclub," Catherine snapped.

The four men in the room seemed surprised by her bluntness, but Gil was the first to recover. "Catherine…we've been friends for awhile, and in reading this article, the author seems to have a personal problem with you. How do you know Kay Peterson?" he asked.

"I refused to let her interview me after Sam died," Catherine answered. She felt a lump rise in her throat at the mention of her father, and she worked to control her emotions. She was _not _going to cry in front of the four men. There was no way. "I had a brief altercation with her, and it seems like this is her way of taking revenge."

"What happened with this altercation?" Ecklie asked.

Catherine sighed, thinking to herself that Conrad was going to order her to anger management before the week was over. "Warrick and I were out to dinner-" she began, only to stop when the sheriff spoke up.

"On a date?"

"No, it wasn't a date," Warrick growled. "It was before shift, after we had just buried Sam Braun. Are you going to let Catherine tell her story or are you just going to sit there and put words in her mouth?" The sheriff and Warrick glared at each other before the sheriff indicated Catherine should continue.

"We were out eating dinner, and Peterson showed up to the diner we were at. We exchanged words-" Seeing Ecklie was getting ready to ask her to define 'exchanged words,' she backtracked and said, "Peterson asked me yet again to do an interview for her, and I refused, then tore her business card up. She told me that she would break my career, and I guess this is what she meant."

"Catherine, why didn't you tell me this?" Gil asked.

"Because I didn't think that it was necessary," Catherine answered miserably. "She isn't the first person I've pissed off, and I'm sure she won't be the last."

Silence rang over the room before Ecklie finally spoke up. "Willows, Brown, I'm going to have to talk to Grissom and the sheriff here to determine what to do," he said.

"'What to do'?" Warrick repeated. "What do you mean?"

Grissom sighed, uncomfortable in this aspect of his role as supervisor. "Catherine, Warrick, the allegations in this article are serious, and we have to conduct a full investigation into them," he told them.

Catherine blinked, the hurt evident in her eyes as she stared up at her friend of the past couple of decades. It made her sick to her stomach that he didn't believe her, that he believed the words of a spiteful reporter over her. "So, what, are we suspended until you finish nosing around our personal lives?" she finally spat, standing up out of the chair she had been ordered to sit in just minutes ago.

"Cath…" she heard Warrick murmur, and she brought her gaze to him. He shook his head slightly, and despite her anger, she settled down slightly. "Gil?" Warrick asked. "Are we suspended?"

Gil glanced at the sheriff and Ecklie, knowing that he was going to get chewed out for what he was going to say to Catherine and Warrick, but he didn't care. "Normally, yes, you would be suspended," Gil began, looking between the pair. Warrick looked defeated while Catherine looked as if she were about to explode. "However," he hastily continued, "Our team is one of the busiest, and I can't afford to lose two of my investigators. We need to look into these allegations, and once we are finished, we will then determine what action – if any – will take place with you."

Warrick nodded, and Catherine just stared at Grissom, her arms tightly crossed in front of her. "Is that all?" she finally questioned.

Ecklie, Grissom, and the sheriff shared a look between the three of them before Ecklie nodded. "That will be all, you're dismissed," Ecklie answered.

Catherine spun on her heel and made her way out of the office, her face turning redder by the second.

"Hey, Cath," she heard Warrick call. "Catherine, stop for one minute!" He grabbed her arm, halting Catherine's progress, and she whirled around, yanking her arm out of his. Warrick raised an eyebrow at the fire in her eyes, and he said, "I'd see if you wanted to go to breakfast, but I'd be afraid that we'd have our picture taken."

"I'm glad that you find this funny, Warrick," Catherine snarled. "But thanks for the invitation. My appetite seems to have flown out the window, shockingly."

She turned to leave, only to freeze up when Warrick spoke again. "What's your problem?" he asked, confused.

"What's my problem?" Catherine whirled around, stepping up to the taller man. "Did you not read that damn article or spend time with those three in there? Warrick, we could get into a lot of trouble here!"

He raised an eyebrow in response, then asked, "Catherine, are we in a romantic relationship?"

"I…last time I checked, no!" Catherine sputtered. "What kind of question-"

"Then why are you worried?" he cut her off, a smile playing at his lips.

"Because…" Catherine trailed off, realizing that he was right. They weren't seeing each other, so why would they get into trouble? The investigation into their lives wouldn't reveal anything. "Because sometimes evidence isn't right," she finally pointed out.

Warrick laughed lightly, settling a hand on her arm for a moment. "Why don't you come to my place, Cath?" he suggested. "I'll make you breakfast."

As tempting as it was, Catherine still shook her head. "Thanks, but I have some stuff I need to take care of," she said.

"Need a hand?"

"No," Catherine chuckled. "You may want to have your checkbook ready in case I need to be bailed out, though."

"Bailed out?" Warrick asked worriedly.

"Oh, yeah." Catherine answered, turning and walking away from him.

"What do you mean?" Warrick called after Catherine.

"I'm going to go have a little chat with Kay Peterson," she responded over her shoulder.

Warrick watched her worriedly, wondering if he should go along with her so that she didn't get arrested.

"Cath," he finally said. "Don't do anything stupid!"

~/~

End Part 7/?

(Reminder – Peterson is the evil one here, not me! ;-) )


	8. Thrash

Howdy! I can't wait for today/tomorrow, which is why you get this a little earlier then I've been posting. I like to take my time with updates and not rush them. I think it kind of adds to the suspense, and makes you come back wanting more. Anyways, I'm going to WWE Night of Champions in Philly tonight and WWE Raw in Washington DC on Monday. Therefore, I won't be replying to you all as quickly (depending what time I leave Monday/how wired I am Sunday night) but trust me, once I start thinking coherently again (I'll probably get home from DC at like 2 AM Tuesday/I have to work from 9-5 on Tuesday/somehow let my friends convince me to see a movie that night), I'll start replying to the reviews. I promise. =)

Speaking of those darling little things that make me smile, thanks to Chris (ZOMG TODAY/TOMORROW~!), Wileret, beeballstar93, YoblingDramioneLover, Brillows4ever, purplepagoda, aty, MrsWillows, BraunGirl, name-me, lil Kass, and jevans47403 for all the awesome reviews. You all seem to hate Kay Peterson, and in about…oh, let's say 1,000 words, she'll have a small mob after her (or me…)

Anywhos, thanks again for the reviews, and thanks to the folks who are adding me to their alerts. Take a moment to let me know what you think! It means the world to me, and I'm trying to break my review records here. Lol And thanks once again to Taylor for betaing. She's such a huge help, and the flow of this story is really improving thanks to her.

Enjoy!

~/~

Catherine had to work to control her temper as she walked into the headquarters of the Vegas Times. She wanted to do nothing more than kick anyone's ass who got in her way as she ripped open every door until she found Kay Peterson. However, Catherine took a deep breath in order to control herself.

"Can I help you?" a pleasant looking young woman asked Catherine as she walked up to the main desk.

"Yes, I'm looking for Kay Peterson," Catherine said as nicely as she could, digging her nails into her palm to fight her anger.

Something clicked in the woman's eyes, as if she recognized Catherine from the newspaper article. "I'm sorry, but Ms. Peterson is out of the office at the moment," the woman told Catherine. "May I take a mess-?"

"No, you can't take a message," Catherine snapped, no longer able to hold her temper. "I want you to find Peterson right now, and get her ass out here."

The smile slid off the woman's face, and she frowned as she said, "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Catherine placed her hands on the desk, leaning over until her face was inches from the woman's. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart, so you better tell Kay Peterson to get out here, right now," she said through gritted teeth.

The desk clerk was starting to look nervous, and she scratched her eyebrow as she chuckled, "Ma'am, I don't even know who you are…"

Catherine pulled the newspaper article out of her bag, thrusting it into the woman's face. "I'm the one who this slander was written about, and I'd like to speak to Ms. Peterson about getting her facts straight," Catherine answered sweetly. "So you can tell her to stop hiding and face me like a woman."

"Ma'am, she's not here," the clerk repeated.

"Look, sweetheart," Catherine said. "What's your name?"

"Kelsey…" the clerk answered warily.

"Kelsey, honey, I know that Ms. Peterson is probably forcing you to lie, but all I want to do is talk," Catherine replied. "So why don't you stop lying to me?"

"I'm not lying!" Kelsey exclaimed. "In fact, you're starting to piss me off!"

"I'm starting to piss you off?" Catherine laughed. "Kelsey, Kay Peterson just got me in a whole lot of trouble with my bosses, so if anyone has a reason to be pissed, it's me. So why don't you stop lying to me and call Ms. Peterson down here to face me like a woman? Or is she a coward like you are?"

"I'm not a coward!" Kelsey growled, shooting up and leaning over the counter. Catherine nearly flinched at the sudden move, but she simply smiled at Kelsey.

"That's why you're hiding behind a bench," Catherine pressed. "Oh, well, at least that's better than hiding in an office."

"She's not here!" Kelsey yelled. "Why can't you-"

The elevator dinged, stopping Kelsey's tirade, and drew Catherine's attention towards its doors. The CSI was not entirely shocked when Kay Peterson stepped out. Catherine raised an eyebrow at Kelsey, fighting the urge to laugh at the horrified look on the clerk's face.

Peterson swallowed when she saw Catherine striding to her, and she turned back to the closed doors, stabbing the elevator buttons with her thumb. She cursed under her breath when the doors didn't open, whirling around to face Catherine.

"You have a lot of nerve, Peterson," Catherine called out, ignoring the calls of security from Kelsey. "It's really nice that you ran that lovely article about me. At least you did your damn research! Oh, wait, you didn't!"

"Ms. Willows-" Peterson started. "I-"

"You what?" Catherine challenged. "You're full of shit? I already know that."

"I-"

"What's that? You ran a completely false story?"

"I checked my facts-"

"Oh really?" Catherine cut her off again, satisfaction overtaking her when she saw that Peterson was getting angry at constantly being interrupted. _If I could just get her to swing at me, I'd knock her ass out with one hit… _Catherine thought.

"Yeah, really!" Peterson sniped.

"Well, you got one huge fact wrong, honey," Catherine answered. "I'm not in a romantic relationship with Warrick Brown."

"That's not what I heard!" Peterson replied.

"Name your source, then," Catherine challenged.

"I can't-"

"Because you don't have one!" Catherine yelled. "You're a fucking coward-"

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," a security guard spoke up, laying a heavy hand on Catherine's shoulder.

Catherine glared up at the man, taking in his burly stature. The man had a good foot and a half on her, as well as about 150 pounds, yet she refused to back down. "Why?" she asked the security guard. "We're just having a little chat here."

"Mrs. Peterson?" The security officer asked Peterson.

Catherine heard the ding of the elevator, rolling her eyes as she turned to look at the reporter. She knew Peterson was going to make a fast getaway and she would be 'escorted' away from the premises.

Catherine felt the smack of Kay Peterson's right hand cross her face before it actually registered that the reporter had slapped her. She blinked, her jaw dropping as she numbly watched Peterson hastily slide back into the elevator.

_She actually just slapped me! _

"You fucking bitch!" Catherine yelled, making a leap toward the doors once she snapped out of her shock. The security officer grabbed her from behind, lifting the CSI easily over his shoulder. "Get off of me!" Catherine struggled in his grasp, kicking and struggling with all her might to get away so she could get to Kay Peterson.

The security officer easily carried Catherine to the door despite her struggles. He walked through the door, dropping Catherine on the ground. She lost her balance and landed on her backside, staring up at the guard who had just manhandled her. Indignantly, Catherine shot to her feet, screaming at the security guard. "I want her arrested!" she hollered.

"I'm not a cop, miss," the security officer chuckled.

"I'm pressing charges!" Catherine continued her tirade. "She assaulted me!"

"I didn't see nothing," the officer shrugged. "And I can guarantee that all the other folks in there didn't see anything other than you making a ruckus."

"Son of a bitch!" Catherine yelled, taking a step closer to the door. "You bastard-"

The security officer leered at Catherine. "You come in this building and I'll be calling the cops to have you arrested," he told her. "And seeing as how you're fucking your colleague, I don't think that you can take too many more blows to your career."

With that he slammed the door in Catherine's face.

"God damn it!" she yelled in frustration, ignoring the looks of alarm that people were giving her.

~/~

Catherine was in one of the worst moods in her life by the time that she got home from the Vegas Times' office. She sat in her car for several long minutes, bracing her forehead against the steering wheel.

She was exhausted, yet, for some reason, she had driven around Las Vegas for about six hours following her altercation with Kay Peterson. Catherine wasn't sure what she was more upset about…the fact that Peterson had actually slapped her, or the fact that she knew that the guard was right when he said that no one would admit to being a witness to the ordeal.

She gritted her teeth, banging her head against the wheel lightly. The last few weeks were breaking her, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She had been drugged and led to believe that she had been raped, her father had been murdered, her daughter had been kidnapped then had shunned her, and some crazy reporter had chosen her to be her next news story. It made her sick to stomach…and mad. Man, was she _livid._

Catherine couldn't remember ever being this ticked. Even her verbal sparring matches with Eddie in the past hadn't left her this angry. The only time that was akin to the anger she was feeling at this moment was when she found out that Gil knew that Eddie was cheating on her and hadn't even told her. It was strange…she had been more angry that Gil knew about Eddie's infidelity then the fact that Eddie had actually cheated on her. She and Eddie had been drifting apart for so long that she knew that it wasn't going to last. The fact he was unfaithful hurt, yes, but Gil's lying to her face damn near broke her.

She was so angry with so many different people…her daughter, father, Gil, and Kay Peterson all fought for the top of her list. She was mad at her daughter for the way that she had been acting lately, her father for leaving her, Gil for not believing her, and Peterson for simply breathing.

Catherine knew that she was being irrational, but at the moment, she really didn't care. She _knew _that Sam didn't want to die; she _knew _that Lindsey was going through a rebellious stage. However, the lack of support from her supposed best friend and the battle that Peterson had waged on her was taking its toll; it felt to her as if it was Catherine Willows vs. the world.

She looked at the clock of her rental car. It was already five o'clock, and she had to be at work in about seven hours. That was not nearly enough time to get enough sleep. Catherine wondered whether she should take a personal day, but that thought was nixed when she realized that with everything going on, it would appear as if she was running from her problems. Sighing, she forced herself to move out of the car.

She scowled when she saw the tiny bruise on her cheek thanks to Kay Peterson's hand. Catherine hated to admit it, but Peterson packed a mean punch, and her cheek still stung somewhat. She vowed that if Peterson ever had the guts to face Catherine again, she would avenge the mark on her face.

Catherine stretched as she shut the door to the car, slowly making her way up to the door. She vaguely wondered what Lindsey was doing, thinking that her daughter had better be home. After all, she _was _grounded.

Quietly, Catherine opened the door to her house, stepping inside. She quietly shut the door, briefly wondering if she would even make it to her bedroom. Right now, the couch sounded like a good option…

She frowned when she heard a noise in the living room, slowly creeping to the opening. Voices made their way to her ears as she looked at her couch. Catherine frowned as she looked at the back of the couch. She could barely make out the tell tale sign of brown hair, but there was a t-shirt that looked suspiciously like Lindsey's draped over the back of the couch.

"_Lindsey, sexy, are you sure that your mom won't be coming home?"_

"_Yes, baby, she's usually home and asleep by now. She probably went to work early or something, like usual."_

"_Thank God, cause I don't want to be interrupted…"_

"_Have you ever done anything like this?"_

"_With someone as sexy as you? Hell no, baby. I'm gonna blow your mind."_

Catherine blinked when Lindsey's bra landed on the floor in front of her couch, snapping her into motion. She strode over to the couch, picking Lindsey's shirt off the cushions and peering over the back.

"Oh my God!" Catherine couldn't help but say, startling Lindsey and the unknown male that were on the couch. Lindsey was straddling his lap, her hands exploring his chest while his lips teased her nipple. At Catherine's outburst, however, Lindsey fell out of the guy's lap, covering her bare chest with her arm. "Jesus Christ, Lindsey, what the hell-" Catherine started, only to stop when Lindsey spoke up.

"Mom!" she sputtered. "What-"

Catherine violently shook her head, effectively silencing her daughter's protest. She picked up Lindsey's companion's shirt, holding it between two fingers and throwing it at his face. "You had better never set foot on my property again or I will have you arrested for statutory rape," Catherine snapped at the obviously much older man. "Now get the fuck out of my house!"

He hastily scrambled to his feet, running to the door without a second glance at Lindsey. He grabbed his keys off the side table and ran out of the house without even pulling on his shirt. Catherine watched him go, then turned back to Lindsey with a glare.

"Put your damn shirt on, Lindsey," Catherine said, throwing her daughter's shirt at her. Lindsey caught it with her free hand, looking at her mother expectantly. Catherine stood there with her hands on her hips, staring at her daughter.

"Aren't you going to turn around?" Lindsey finally asked.

"I would, but I'd be afraid that you would defy me again and run away or something," Catherine snapped. "Now put your damn shirt on!"

Lindsey's eyes flashed with anger, yet she whirled around so that her bare back was facing her mother. She pulled on her shirt before taking a deep breath and turning to talk to her mother.

"Mom…" Lindsey trailed off, running a hand over her flushed cheeks. "I wasn't going to do anything…"

"Oh, what, other than have sex?" Catherine spoke up. "Don't you know what could happen? Do you even know that guy? I've never seen him!"

"He's a friend-"

"And how old is he?"

Lindsey scuffed a toe against the carpet, not meeting her mom's eyes. "I dunno…maybe nineteen?" That was a lie, but she would never tell her mother that he was twenty-three.

"Maybe nineteen," Catherine chuckled disbelievingly. "Lindsey, you don't know him!"

"Yes, I do!"

"Okay, Linds. Do you know how many sexual partners he's had? Do you know if he has any kids, or if he has any sexually transmitted diseases? Did you think of any of this?!" Lindsey made a move to go up the steps, yet Catherine slid to block her pathway. "You're not going anywhere, young lady, until I'm done with you!"

"Mom! Just let me-"

Catherine spoke over her daughter, shaking her head. "No, Lindsey. I want to make sure that you never do anything like this again!"

"Like you're one to talk!" Lindsey scoffed. "You took off your clothes for a living!"

Catherine glared at her, then said, "Yes, Lindsey, I was an exotic dancer, and yeah, I did take off my clothes for a living. However, I did it to support my family, and I never had sex with anyone other than your father when I was married to him! So don't you dare bring that into this conversation!" Lindsey didn't answer; rather she crossed her arms tightly and stared at her mother. "So tell me, Lindsey, are you ready to be a mother?"

"What? No, of course not!"

"Then why are you having sex at age fifteen?"

"I wasn't having sex, mom!" Lindsey protested. "We were just messing around!"

"And messing around will leave you pregnant!" Catherine argued. "Don't you realize that once you start to 'mess around' it leads to something else, and then you are actually having sex?!"

Lindsey shook her head in response. "I'm not having this conver-"

"Oh, yes you are!" Catherine cut her off. "Cause obviously you weren't listening the last time!"

"Can't you just believe me when I say that it wasn't going to go that far?!"

"No, I can't, Lindsey-"

"What age did you lose your virginity?"

"I- what?!" Catherine sputtered. "That's none of your business!"

"Then why are you pressing me? Obviously you lost it at a young age or you wouldn't be yelling at me!"

Catherine flushed slightly, then hardened her gaze. "My sex life is none of your business-"

"And mine is none of yours!"

"It is mine when you're a minor and you're having sex in my house!"

"Mom, I wasn't going to have sex!" Lindsey protested.

"You know what, I don't care whether you say you weren't going to have sex or not," Catherine shook her head. "If anything, Lindsey, you defied me because I told you that you couldn't have friends over, and whatever that guy was, came over."

"So what, are you going to ground me for the rest of my life now?" Lindsey asked sarcastically.

"No, I'm going to hire you a babysitter."

"What?! You can't do that, mom! I'm fifteen!"

"And you obviously can't follow rules."

"You'll ruin my social life!"

"I don't really give a damn, Lindsey. I'll find you a sitter starting tomorrow."

"That's so not fair!"

"You're also grounded for six months now."

"What?! You can't do that!" Lindsey yelled. "That's not-"

"Not fair?" Catherine finished for her. "It's also not fair that I'm going to have to pay someone to watch you when you should be able to do so on your own. If you want to talk about fair, it's also not fair that I'm missing sleep because of your selfishness, and that-"

"Oh, screw you, mom!" Lindsey cut her off. Catherine opened her mouth to retort, but slammed it shut when Lindsey forcefully shoved past her to go up the steps. She struggled to keep her balance, and by the time Catherine was sure she was going to stay on her feet, Lindsey was already at the top of the steps.

"Get your ass back down here-"

"No!" Lindsey yelled. "Why don't you go make me a bottle for dinner since I'm such a baby?!"

"You said it, not me!" Catherine retorted.

Lindsey merely glared down at her mother. "I hate you," Lindsey finally snarled.

Catherine's jaw dropped, and before she could say anything in response, Lindsey slammed her bedroom door shut. Her first instinct was to run up the steps, but the clicking of the lock sliding into place told Catherine that it was futile to try to talk to Lindsey anymore…

She leaned her head against the wall, pounding it slightly. "Damn," Catherine murmured.

She wasn't sure how long she had stood there, but Catherine finally pushed away from the wall. She slowly lowered herself near the edge, leaning her head back against the cushion. She couldn't help the slight shudder that ran through her body at the idea of her daughter having sex on her couch.

Catherine closed her eyes, shifting slightly. Her cell phone dug into her hip, and without looking, she pulled it off her belt clip. She tossed it on the end table, sighing as she closed her eyes again. Her phone alarm was preset for ten o'clock, like usual, so should she fall asleep, Catherine would be woken up.

The only thing is, she didn't realize that her finger had hit the silent button when she pulled her phone from her clip.

~/~

Grissom looked over the slips he had in his hand as his team assembled in the break room. Nick and Greg walked in together, followed by Sara and Warrick. He waited a few moments for Catherine to follow, but she didn't. Frowning, he leaned against the cabinets. "Does anyone know where Catherine is?" Grissom asked.

Warrick tried not to flinch when the entire team looked at him, but he shook his head in response along with everyone else. "It's not like her to be late," Warrick finally broke the silence.

"No, it's not," Gil answered absently. "Well, we'll just give her a little while to call."

"She would call if she were going to be late," Warrick pressed. Grissom looked at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Warrick…I'll talk to you in a few," Grissom said tightly. Warrick stared back at his boss, anger flashing in his green eyes. Grissom blinked, glancing down at the papers in his hand once again. "Nick, Greg, you guys have a dead body at the Luxor. Sara, you have a break in at a bank. I'm going to stay here and do paperwork, and Warrick, you can work on your other cases," he told his group.

Grissom turned to leave, and Warrick shot into action. "Grissom!" he called angrily, grabbing his supervisor's arm and halting his movement. "What are you doing? Why aren't you calling Catherine?"

"Because Catherine is an adult. If she's going to be late, then she should be calling us," Grissom said simply, turning to face Warrick. "It's not my responsibility to make wake up calls for my staff."

"How do you know she's sleeping?" Warrick questioned. "Why are you so sure of that? She could have gotten into an accident, or maybe she's hurt, or maybe someone took her!"

"Look Warrick, if you're that concerned, then you call her," Grissom finally snapped. "I can't do anything until an hour after she doesn't show up."

Warrick shook his head, backing away from Grissom. "You of all people I would expect to be a little more concerned," he spat. "I'm going to go do my work, and I'll be in your office at 12:59 to find out where my colleague – my _friend _– is. Hopefully she isn't dying or something."

Grissom watched him go, sighing. He knew that he was being an ass, but…it was his job. He glanced at his shoes, scuffing his toe against the tile. Sometimes he hated this job.

With a frown, Grissom pulled out his cell phone, dialing the familiar number.

Warrick entered an evidence room, feeling the sudden urge to put his hand through something. He yanked out his cell phone, dialing Catherine's number by heart. He listened to the phone ring several times, then sighed when her voicemail picked up. "Hey, Cath, it's Warrick…call me when you get this message, okay? I'm…worried about you," he said softly before shutting his phone.

He placed his hands against the table, closing his eyes. Warrick was beyond frustrated about the predicament Gil had put him in…hell, he was pretty much pissed at the entire world. He was mad at Gil, Ecklie, the sheriff, Kay Peterson, himself.

Warrick blinked, wondering why he was so mad at himself. Maybe it was because he loved Catherine, but had refused to acknowledge it and had married a woman he wasn't even in love with. He glanced down at his left hand, sighing when he didn't see the wedding ring that had sat there for so long. It had taken forever for Catherine to warm back up to him after he married Tina, and it seemed as if that may be ripped apart again thanks to Kay Peterson.

If he hadn't already fucked it up.

Warrick looked at the phone in his trembling hand, and flipped it open again. He called Catherine, waiting expectantly for her to answer. When her voicemail picked up again, he simply clicked the phone shut, not bothering to leave a message again.

He groaned to himself, looking at the evidence spread out in front of him. Warrick knew that he should concentrate on work, but he couldn't, not when Catherine was missing in action.

The next forty-five minutes was tense, as he alternated between looking over evidence and calling Catherine. Finally, just when he thought that he was going to explode, Jim tapped on the door to the evidence room. "You busy?" the gruff Captain asked.

"No, Jim, what's up?" Warrick asked.

"Gil and I were going to take a ride over to Catherine's. She's not answering her home or cell phone, so we're going to make sure that she's okay," Brass said. "Figured we could use the extra help…" Brass trailed off, not wanting to complete his thought, not wanting to admit that there might be something seriously wrong with the strawberry blond.

Warrick nodded eagerly in response, moving to walk next to Brass. No words were exchanged as they made their way to Gil's office, the tension evident on the supervisor's face. "Ready?" Gil asked.

"Ready," Jim and Warrick answered.

Warrick could only hoped that he was ready for whatever they would find…

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End Part 8/?


	9. Topple

Well, I'm a couple days late with my promise to a couple things, but such is life. I've been really busy and all, so I'm sorry.

First of all, thanks to Chris (who probably would love to go to SummerFest/SummeSlam), beeballstar93, name-me, BraunGirl, Brillows4ever, YoblingDramoineLover, Double I 4 My Guyz, and Wileret for the sweet reviews on the last chapter. And also, thanks to Taylor for betaing this chapter and the last few for me! =)

_**PLEASE READ THIS!!!!!!!!**_

The content in this chapter contains some minor violence and something that is probably seen as very OOC for one of the characters. However, when I started writing this story, I wanted to do something that wasn't done before and would have content intended to shock the reader. If Taylor's reaction is any indication, it will shock you all. I stand by what I wrote, and I hope that you will take the time to provide feedback about this chapter. I don't want to spoil anything in the story, so I will address my reasoning in the next chapter/the reviews I get.

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Warrick sighed in frustration as Catherine's phone rang repeatedly, but his coworker didn't answer. "Damn it," he grunted in frustration, his worry permeating to the surface as he slammed the phone shut, not bothering to leave a message.

"Warrick, calm down," Grissom instructed impatiently. "There's probably a perfectly good reason for why Catherine isn't answering her phone."

"Like what, she's been kidnapped? Or she's unconscious?!" Warrick snapped. "Come on, Brass, can't you drive a little faster?"

"I'm doing 90 in a 55, Warrick," Brass replied patiently. "We'll be there in a few minutes."

Warrick pounded his fist in his hand, watching as the lights and trees flew by in a flash as Brass sped to Catherine's house. It wasn't like her to be late to work, and it was certainly out of character for her not to answer her cell phone. Something _had_ to be wrong.

Before Warrick knew it, Jim had pulled up to Catherine's house. Her rental car was parked in the driveway, but that did nothing to settle Warrick's nerves. Jim barely had the car in park before Warrick shot out of the car, racing to Catherine's front door, despite Jim and Grissom's protests.

He pounded on her front door with his fist. "Catherine!" he called. "Cath, are you here? Open the door!"

Inside, the pounding of the door matched the pounding in Catherine's head as she forced herself awake. "What the hell?" she uttered, rubbing her face as she stumbled off the couch. She glanced at her clock. "Oh, no!" she cried, seeing that it was 1:30 in the morning.

Catherine forced her legs to the door, ripping it open to see Gil, Warrick, and Jim standing there, concern on their faces. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry!" Catherine blurted out as soon as she opened the door. "Jesus Christ, I can't believe that I fell asleep!" She turned, walking into her house, the three men following her. "Why didn't you guys call me?!" she asked.

"We did," Gil spoke up, crossing his arms as he watched Catherine pick up her phone. "Several times. What happened?"

"Fuck," Catherine groaned. "Somehow my phone got switched to silent." She raked a hand through her hair. "I'm so embarrassed."

"You should be!" Gil couldn't help but snark, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Catherine, what the hell is wrong with you?! You get into the face of suspects – minor suspects at that – you're ending up on the front page of the Vegas Times, you're accused of having relationships with coworkers, and now you're oversleeping? Catherine, I can only defend you so much before _I _start to get in trouble!"

"I know that, Gil!" Catherine exclaimed. "If you're going to chastise me and dress me down, can you at least do it at the office and not in my home?" Catherine glared at him, flipping open the phone she still held in her hand. She grimaced when she saw that there eight missed calls from Warrick, five from Gil, four from Brass, three from Nicky, and two apiece from Sara and Greg. On top of that, she had fourteen text messages. "Give me five minutes and I'll be on my way to the lab," Catherine finally snapped at Gil.

"I expect you in my office the second you walk through that door," Gil snapped back. "Your behavior is in-"

"Don't you think I realize that my life is falling apart?" Catherine yelled at Gil. She was screaming at this point, beyond caring that it was late at night and her neighbors and daughter were trying to sleep. "Damn it, in the last month I was roofied, nearly raped, had my daughter kidnapped, had my father _die _in my _arms_, and have basically had Lindsey defy me in every God damned way possible! Add to that Lillian Danielson chose to challenge me in solving the case of her mother and some psycho bitch reporter that I pissed off has me on her hit list! Can't you cut me some fucking slack, Gil?! I'm early for every shift, stay after every shift, I can't sleep, I can't eat, and you're giving me grief because I over-"

"Mom, what is your problem?" Catherine stopped speaking when Lindsey cut her off, and her head swiveled to the top of the steps.

"It's nothing, Lindsey. Just go back to bed," Catherine told Lindsey, lowering her voice. "I'm sorry that we woke you."

Lindsey looked between her mother and the three men standing uncomfortably in her living room. She blinked, realizing why the men were there. "What the hell, mom?! You called your friends on me because you assumed I was about to have sex?!" Lindsey yelled, her voice permeating the quiet night air as well.

"What?" Catherine asked, dumbfounded. "No, Lindsey. I overslept and they came over because they were concerned when I didn't answer my phone," Catherine told Lindsey. "What are you doing up anyways? It's almost two in the morning. It's a school ni-"

"Shut up! You're such a liar! You sent them here to arrest me!" Lindsey snarled. "You don't care about me and you want me to be arrested!"

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do! You hate me!"

"Lindsey, please!" Catherine pleaded, stepping up to her daughter. "Don't do this in front of them."

"Do what, mom?" Lindsey hollered, stepping closer to her mother until she was in her face. "Tell your colleagues what a horrible mother you are?!"

Catherine flinched, not daring to look at Grissom, Warrick, or Brass. The situation was quickly spiraling out of control, and she desperately fought her emotions in an attempt to get a grip on the situation. "Lindsey, I don't know who you think you are, but I will not let you speak to me this way," Catherine began, using her few inches of height to glare down at her daughter. "If you want to finish this conversation later when you decide to act as a rational young adult, let me know."

Catherine turned away from Lindsey, her gaze immediately meeting that of Warrick's. She didn't have time to convey her pain to him before she felt herself being whirled back around roughly.

She felt the fist of her daughter's clenched right hand strike her long before it actually registered that Lindsey had punched her in the face. Catherine felt herself falling back, her lower back striking the edge of her end table as she landed. Pain seared through her spine at the impact, and she gracelessly fell to the ground, breathing heavily.

Catherine didn't know what to do. For a long second, all she saw was Eddie's enraged face, the broken beer bottles, and the blood that would soon stain the carpet. She whimpered in fear, her back protesting the movements as she braced herself for the attack.

Then, all hell broke loose.

Catherine snapped back to reality when she saw her daughter advancing on her fallen form, cringing at the wild look in her daughter's eyes. _My God, she's turning into Eddie, _Catherine thought. _She's going to beat me and there's nothing that I can do about it._

Catherine cried out, closing her eyes as she waited for Lindsey's fists and feet to rein down on her. Instead, she heard the thud of bodies hitting the floor, and a howl that sounded like it erupted from her daughter's throat.

She forced her eyes opened, shocked to see Brass struggling to flip an uncooperative Lindsey Willows onto her stomach. His hands were reaching for his handcuffs, and this snapped Catherine back to reality.

"No!" Catherine cried out hoarsely, struggling to her knees, ignoring the unbearable pain in her back as she did so. "Jim! Don't hurt my baby." Catherine crawled on her knees to the scene before her, narrowly missing one of Lindsey's feet striking her in the face again.

"Catherine, let him do his job," Warrick said gently, pulling back on Catherine's shoulder.

"No!" Catherine howled, shaking off Warrick violently. She reached a trembling hand toward the pair wrestling on the ground, her intent being to yank Brass away from Lindsey. "She didn't mean it!" Catherine cried.

"Screw you, mom! This is all your fault!" Lindsey seethed, her nails finding Jim's arm. He simply gritted his teeth, using his upper body strength to finally flip Lindsey over.

Catherine moved toward the pair again, shocked when a pair of strong arms encircled her upper body, restricting her movements. Warrick fell backwards, Catherine's back against his chest as he restrained her. She struggled, wiggling in Warrick's strong grasp in an attempt to be free from his grip. Catherine kicked her legs in an attempt to escape, only to cease her movement when Warrick locked his long legs around hers.

She was trapped against his muscular body, her arms pinned to her sides and her legs restricted, but Catherine still attempted to move. "Let me go," she cried weakly to Warrick, attempting to jerk her arms up to break his almost bruising grip on her, her body futilely bucking against his. "I have to help Lindsey!"

"Catherine, the only way you'll help Lindsey is by letting her get the help she needs," Warrick said quietly. "We all saw her assault you. This goes way past the teenage moodiness," Warrick told her. "She needs help, Catherine."

She sobbed in response, the dam finally breaking as she registered Jim telling Lindsey that she was under arrest for assaulting Catherine. She was barely aware of Grissom glancing between a still cursing Lindsey and Jim, and Warrick and Catherine, bewilderment and fear on his face. He stood as a barrier to stop Catherine should she actually break free of Warrick's grip, but Grissom seriously doubted that that would happen.

Tears streamed down Catherine's face as she struggled for breath. She felt Warrick's iron grip loosen slightly, only to have him flip her over so that she couldn't see Brass hauling Lindsey to her feet or leading her out of the house. His arms encircled Catherine's waist as she sobbed into his shoulder, her hands gripping the white shirt that he wore underneath a gray hoodie.

Several minutes later, Catherine pulled her face from his shoulder. She glanced at Warrick, seeing the cringe on his face as they made eye contact. Her vision was blurry, but she didn't miss the look in his eyes, or the fact that blood now stained his pristine shirt.

Catherine pulled away, struggling to her feet as Warrick's arms loosened from around her waist. Pain shot through her lower back at the movement, but nevertheless, she pulled herself to her feet. She was slightly alarmed at the blood that was left on the end table, but she still forced her feet toward the bathroom at the end of the hall.

She flipped on the light, afraid of what she would find.

Catherine flinched as she gazed into the mirror, not expecting the bloody mess that was on her face. Both of her eyes were beginning to blacken, a cut running along the bridge of her nose. Her nose was still bleeding, the tears mixing with her blood and trailing down her cheeks and jaw to fall on her lavender top.

She ran a hand across her face. Catherine cried out in pain as her hand contacted her broken skin. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that her nose was broken, but she didn't care. She couldn't believe that her daughter actually struck her. Anger – and fear – ran through Catherine as she flicked the light switch off, leaving bloody fingerprints in the process, and made her way out to her living room.

She didn't speak to Gil or Warrick as she grabbed her purse. Catherine gingerly wiped her hand across her face again, trying to wipe the blood away from her nose that still trickled down her lips and chin without any more pain shooting through her face. It was a worthless motion, as she felt slivers of pain shoot up her sinuses into her forehead.

Catherine pulled out her car keys, not meeting Warrick or Gil's gazes as she made her way to the front door. Warrick snapped out of his stupor, walking quickly so that he blocked Catherine from exiting the door.

"Get out of my way, Warrick." Catherine snapped at him.

"You're not driving," Warrick said firmly. "In fact, the only place you are going is to the hospital."

Catherine made a move to push past him, only to stumble backwards when he didn't budge. "Get out of my way!" she cried hysterically. "I'm fine, and I want answers!"

"Hey, hey!" Warrick said, gripping her upper arms and giving her a slight shake. For a moment, he thought back to a month ago when she rambled incessantly about Lindsey getting kidnapped and he tried to get her to slow down. "Cath. Think for a moment," Warrick said softly, forcing her to look at him. "Catherine, your eyes are glazed over, and it's very possible that you have a concussion. You have blood all over your face and your shirt. Your back is soaked in blood, for God's sake."

"I don't care," Catherine spoke up, shoving against his chest in an attempt to get out the door. "I need to get to my daughter!"

"Catherine!" Gil exclaimed. "Settle down or I'll suspend y-"

"Fire me for all I care!" she growled, struggling to pull her arms away from Warrick. "Lindsey is a minor and Brass can't talk to her unless I'm there! So let me go!"

"You're not driving, Catherine!" Warrick exclaimed, letting go of her arms and snatching the keys out of her hand before she could react. She made a slow grab for the keys, only to have Warrick yank his hand back. "Listen to me, damn it!" Warrick finally hollered.

Catherine started, her blue eyes widening as Warrick raised his voice at her. Her hands dropped to her side as she looked up at Warrick, her eyes shining with the tears that had yet to fall.

Warrick felt a wave of guilt wash through him, but he spoke gently to Catherine. "Listen, honey," he said softly, placing his hands on her shoulder. She crossed her arms in response, ignoring the almost unbearable pain that shot through her back at the action. "Look. Let me drive you to the station, and once we get things settled, you let me take me to the hospital."

"I'm not going to the hospital!" Catherine protested. "I refuse-"

Warrick sighed loudly, cutting her off. "Damn it, Catherine, stop being stubborn!" She glared at him, closing her mouth tightly. Warrick gritted his teeth, shrugging off his hoodie and tossing it to Catherine. "Put this on," he said roughly.

"Why-"

"Cause it's cold out, and you have blood all over your back," Warrick cut her off. "You look terrible, Catherine."

"Thanks, Warrick," she said sarcastically, pulling his hoodie on and zipping it up. Catherine wanted to cry out at the pain in her back at the action. It was then that she finally realized that something could have been seriously wrong, but for some reason she just didn't care. She knew that she should be mad at Lindsey for striking her, but she was more worried than anything else.

"Come on, Catherine," Gil finally spoke up. "Let's get you to the station."

She ignored him and walked out the door. Catherine froze however, as she watched Brass put Lindsey in his car. Embarrassment crept up to her face as the lights danced across the houses in her neighborhood and lights flicked on. She could envision her neighbors staring out their windows, looking at the scene that was going on at the Willows residence.

Catherine watched numbly as Jim, Gil, and Warrick talked. Her eyes met Lindsey's through the glass of Jim's car, and her daughter simply stared back with hatred. Warrick walked over and stood in front of Catherine, cutting off her connection to Lindsey. "Jim and Gil are going to take Lindsey to the lab. I'm driving you there." His tone of voice left no room for argument, and Catherine meekly nodded. She was starting to shake in the chilly night air, and she allowed Warrick to lead her to the passenger's side of the car.

She sat down, her hands trembling as she pulled on her seat belt and Warrick made his way to the driver's side. Catherine opened the glove department, relieved to see that there were some napkins in there. She grabbed the bottle of water that she had stuck in the drink holder earlier, opening it and soaking the napkin she held in her hand. She pulled down the mirror, using it to see as she wiped away as much blood as possible from her face.

Warrick drove quickly, following Jim. Every once in awhile, his gaze flicked to Catherine. Her nose had finally stopped bleeding, but there were still traces of blood on her pale face. Tears trickled past the bruising underneath her eyes, leaving streaks down her cheeks.

Wordlessly, Warrick reached over, taking Catherine's small hand in his. He was relieved when she didn't pull away, but she still didn't look at him.

"She hit you before, didn't she?"

At Warrick's words, Catherine glanced at him. "What?" she managed to ask.

"The bruise on your cheek. That wasn't there this morning. Did Lindsey hit you?"

Catherine managed a small laugh, shaking her head. "No."

"What happened?"

"Let's just say that I'm lucky that I'm not in jail right now. My little meeting with Kay Peterson didn't go that well."

Warrick blinked. "_She_ hit you?!" he asked incredulously. He thought for a minute, then added, "You didn't kill her, did you?"

Catherine shook her head. "She got a lucky smack in, and when I went to retaliate, her security dumped me outside the building," she scowled at the memory. "She's lucky, too."

Warrick nodded, squeezing her hand. It was silent for several minutes before he spoke again. "It's going to be okay," Warrick said softly. "We'll get Lindsey the help she needs."

Catherine sniffled, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "What-" she swallowed, shocked at how hoarse she was from crying and yelling. "What did I do wrong?" Catherine finally asked.

Warrick snuck a look at Catherine, the red and blue from Jim's car flashing across her face. "Nothing, honey," he finally said. "Something's very wrong with Lindsey, and she needs help."

"I just…I did something wrong," Catherine pressed. "Was it the fact that I wasn't there enough growing up? I'm _still _not there enough for her, obviously! My God, she'd probably be better off with Eddie right now!"

"What, doing drugs and being left in some car in the rising water again?" Warrick scoffed. "Catherine…you're doing the best that you can. We're going to get this all sorted out and it will be okay."

Catherine finally glanced at Warrick. "You keep saying 'we'," she pointed out.

Warrick blinked, not realizing his choice of words. Finally, he smiled at Catherine. "I say we because I'm going to be here for you the whole way," he told her, squeezing her hand.

Catherine nodded, swallowing back the lump in her throat. "Don't make promises that you can't keep, Rick," she finally said. "I've lived a life filled with broken promises, and I can't take anymore."

Warrick stole a long glance at Catherine, his heart aching as he looked at his friend. "Well, honey, you're stuck with me," Warrick replied. "I don't know how, but it's going to be all right."

They pulled up to the lab, and Catherine eased her body out of the rental. Her back was aching to the point that it was difficult to walk, but Catherine ignored the shooting pain that was occurring and shuffled to the doors. She glanced at Warrick, unsure of what to do or say.

Warrick took control, patting her on the shoulder. "How about you go clean up a little better and change your clothes," he suggested. "As nice as you look in my hoodie, it really doesn't match your dress pants."

Catherine finally smiled. "Thank you," she said softly. "I'll meet you in my office in about fifteen minutes. Lindsey should be here by then, right?"

"More than likely," Warrick replied. Catherine nodded, and walked away slowly. Warrick stared after her, worry etched across his features.

Catherine made her way to the locker room as fast as she could, pulling her makeup kit as well as her spare clothes out of her locker and making her way to the ladies room. She pushed open the door, relieved that there was no one in there. Catherine walked to the sink, turning on the water at full force and using a paper towel doused with soap to wipe away the blood that was still on her face.

Her relief at being alone was short lived when the door opened, but Catherine couldn't help but be a little relieved when it was Sara and not anyone else. She met the brunette's gaze through the mirror. The shocked look on Sara's face at her appearance told Catherine that she hadn't yet spoken to Gil. "Catherine, what happened?" Sara asked. "Are you okay?!"

"I uh…kind of…" Catherine trailed off, unsure of how to continue. With a sigh, she turned off the water, turning to face Sara. "I overslept tonight, and my home phone was off the hook and my cell phone was on silent. Gil, Jim, and Warrick came to my place to make sure I was okay, and Gil and I exchanged words, which woke Lindsey up. She came down and flipped out cause she thought that I called the guys on her because we had had another fight."

"Wow," Sara uttered. She took in Catherine's battered face and asked, "Did a suspect hit you last night?" Catherine was silent, averting her eyes from Sara's. Reality dawned on Sara, and the brunette's mouth dropped open. "You mean Lindsey…Lindsey hit you?!"

Catherine nodded, shrugging. "I guess I deserved it, though," she said miserably.

"No, Catherine," Sara spoke, shaking her head to emphasize her point. "You don't deserve that. No one does!"

Catherine sighed softly, turning back to the mirror. "I just…I don't know what to do or think," Catherine admitted. "I mean, I'm mad that Lindsey hit me, don't get me wrong. However, she's my daughter, and I don't want to see her end up in jail or with a record because of a mistake."

"Cath, that's probably the same thing you said when Eddie hit you the first time," Sara pointed out. "And look what that turned into."

"But it's different," Catherine whispered. "She's my daughter. I'm supposed to protect her from all the evil in the world, and I couldn't even do that."

"You tried your best, Catherine. You're only one person."

"I know."

"You're going to have to make some tough decision, Catherine," Sara pointed out. "You know you have the support of the team no matter what."

"I…I don't know, Sara," Catherine finally admitted. "I pissed off Gil…" she trailed off, looking at Sara with glassy eyes. Sara watched, alarmed as the color drained from Catherine's face, her skin suddenly ghostly white as she swayed on her feet.

"Cath-" Sara started, crossing the space between them in two long strides. She barely caught Catherine before she fainted. Sara noticed the blood on the back of Warrick's hoodie. "Shit," she uttered. She gently laid Catherine on the floor, running to the door. "I need some help!" Sara yelled, drawing the attention of several people milling in the hallway. Seeing Gil and Warrick running to the door, Sara turned her attention back to Catherine. She kneeled next to the redhead, brushing her hair out of her sweaty face.

"It's going to be okay, Catherine," Sara said soothingly, taking her hand in his. "Just hang in there. You're going to be okay."

Sara only hoped that she was telling the truth.

~/~

End 9/?


	10. Transfer

I must say that I have the most amazing readers here. You guys were freaking AWESOME in your reviews, and I appreciate EACH and EVERY one of them. If I'm not mistaken, I think that the number of reviews is the second most I got for a single chapter, so thanks for that too. =)

Thank you to Chris, Brillows4ever, MrsWillows, beeballstar93, Imagine..soul, AutumnDoe, Caroline, aty, name-me, jevans47403, ConnieLover, Wileret, Double I 4 My Guyz, and YoblingDramoineLover for all the wonderful reviews. Seriously, thank you, thank you, thank you!

Well, that's about it. Thank you to Taylor for betaing this and giving me lots of encouragement with this story. I really appreciate it. I'm also working on another one shot, which I hope that you all will read once I finish it and post it.

Enjoy guys, and I hope that FF allows you all to send those sweet reviews my way. ;-)

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_Pain._

_Her head hurt, her nose felt as if it was three times the size of her face…_

_And her back._

_God, her back._

_It felt as if someone had taken a knife and sliced her right above the kidneys, and then took a baseball bat and whacked her as hard as humanly possible…_

Catherine forced her eyes open, weakly shielding them from the bright lights of the room that she was in. Her throat was dry, and she coughed slightly to get the attention of the man staring out the window.

Warrick turned around at the noise, a smile spreading across his face when he saw that Catherine was finally awake. She had given him a scare earlier in the morning.

"Rick…what happened?" Catherine managed to ask, though it took some effort. Warrick poured some water into a cup for her, holding it up to her lips.

"Drink slow, Cath," he instructed. "Not too much at once."

She did as he said, sipping the cool water until her throat felt somewhat less scratchy. "What happened?" Catherine asked again. "Why am I here?"

"You fainted in the women's bathroom," Warrick told Catherine. "You lost a lot of blood due to the cut on your back, and you just passed out."

"I – oh my God. Lindsey!" Catherine gasped, making a move to shove the blankets off her. Pain shot through her back at the movement, and she froze, sucking in a deep breath.

"Hey, you're not going anywhere!" Warrick chastised her gently. "Catherine, honey, relax!"

"But Linds-"

"Shh, honey, it's all been taken care of."

"Taken care of? How-"

"Don't worry about it, Catherine. We've got it under control."

Catherine stared up at him, her blue eyes glassy as she tried to comprehend what Warrick was saying. She shifted slightly, cringing at the pain in her back and head. "What did they do to me?" Catherine finally asked. "My back hurts worse now…"

"Well, like I said, you lost a lot of blood, Cath. There was a large gash on your back that needed stitches," Warrick began.

"How many?" Catherine asked warily.

"Twenty-one," Warrick answered. Catherine winced, wondering for a brief second how she had lasted so long with a huge cut in her back. "They gave you two blood transfusions, and have had you on a saline drip since we got here."

"Why the saline drip?" she asked, confusion evident in her tone.

"Well, what did you have to eat yesterday?" Warrick asked her.

Catherine frowned, thinking back. "I had some toast and a cup of yogurt at breakfast, and some coffee. I didn't eat dinner when I got home because I was stressed and Lindsey and I started fighting. I just wasn't hungry."

"Your blood sugar was dangerously low, Catherine," Warrick informed her with a sigh. "You need the saline in order to get your levels back up. Cath…you need to start eating right. This-"

"How long am I stuck here?" Catherine cut him off. She was tired of being lectured on eating properly, and right now all she cared about was getting to Lindsey. Warrick had said that it was taken care of, but Catherine needed answers for herself.

Warrick shrugged, pulling up a chair and settling across from Catherine. "I don't know, they probably want to make sure your blood sugar gets up. Other than that, I think you're fine," he said. "Your head CT was clear, no sign of a concussion."

"Good." Catherine took a deep breath and sat up slowly, her free hand coming over to tug at the IV in her hand. "Where's the doctor? I want to sign out of here."

"What? No, Catherine, you can't," Warrick told her. "You're hurt-"

"I'll live," Catherine grimaced as she picked at the tape to find a loose end to pull up.

"No, Cath," Warrick shook his head, laying his hands over hers to halt her progress for a moment. "Think about this. You're very weak, I doubt that you can even walk."

"My daughter needs me," Catherine argued, pulling her hands from his. Again she pulled at the tape, aggravation showing on her features as she looked up as a doctor walked into the room.

"Good morning Ms. Willows," he said pleasantly. "How are-" He stopped talking when he saw that Catherine had the tape off her hand and was preparing to pull the IV out of her hand. "Wait, no, don't do that!"

"I know my rights," Catherine flinched slightly at the feeling of the needle being extracted from her skin. "And I want to sign out, right now."

"But Ms. Willows, your injuries!" the doctor protested.

"Yeah, yeah, stitches in the back, have my doctor take them out in seven to ten days," Catherine said, swinging her legs over and using Warrick to stand. "Where's my clothes?" she asked him.

Warrick raised an eyebrow at her, looking over at the doctor. The doctor shook his head to shake himself out of his stupor, and continued, "Your blood sugar-"

"-is really low," Catherine finished. "I'll eat more and take better care of myself," she added. "Warrick, where's my clothes?"

"Ms. Willows, I highly recommend that you not leave," the doctor said. "If you do, you're opening yourself up to injury and this hospital will not be held liable."

"I know, I know," Catherine cut him off. "Just bring me the papers and I'll sign them." The doctor made an irritated sound with his tongue, shaking his head before turning and exiting the room. Catherine glanced up at Warrick, who was pretty much holding her up. "Rick? My clothes?" she asked him softly.

Warrick stared down at Catherine, shaking his head. "There's no way that I'll be able to convince you to stay here?" he questioned her.

"No," Catherine answered truthfully. "I need to get to Lindsey. And if you don't take me then I'm hailing a cab."

Warrick sighed heavily. "Hold onto the bed here, I'm going to grab your clothes out of the closet," he told her.

Catherine gripped the railings tightly, fighting the shaking in her legs at the mere task of standing up. She struggled not to pass out, knowing that if she did, she would be restrained in the bed faster then she could say 'I'm checking out AMA.'

Warrick grabbed her rumpled jeans, sneakers, and blood soaked and torn top out of the closet, handing them to Catherine. She looked at them, quirking an eyebrow at Warrick. "I can't wear this top; everyone will think I killed someone," she pointed out.

Warrick frowned, realizing she was right. "I think I have a spare t-shirt in my truck," he said. "It will be way too big, though."

"It's okay," Catherine shrugged. "It's probably better for my back anyways if I don't have something rubbing against it."

Warrick gave Catherine a long look, then said, "Give me five minutes to grab it out of my car, and then I'll help you get dressed."

"Okay," Catherine said softly. She sank into the chair, taking a deep breath. She slumped slightly so that her back wasn't pressed against the chair, supporting her weight against her shoulders. Closing her eyes, Catherine blindly found her pants on the bed, dragging them over to her. She opened her eyes, willing the world to stop spinning. Her heart pounded somewhat rapidly, but there was no way she was going to stay in this hospital.

It took some effort, but she managed to pull her jeans up halfway. She sucked in a breath and stood slowly, bracing herself against the bed as she pulled her jeans on the rest of the way. Catherine let go of the bed and buttoned her jeans. With shaking legs, she shuffled to the other side of the bed, sliding her feet into the sneakers. She bent to tie her shoes, only to freeze when her back protested adamantly at the motion.

_Okay, the shoes are obviously a no go,_ Catherine thought to herself. She'd have to get Warrick to tie them. She felt a little ashamed at that, yet she knew it was nothing to ashamed of.

Catherine froze, realizing that Warrick was going to have to help her with a bra. She cringed, wondering if she could at least get it halfway on and just have him hook it…or, she could have a nurse help her, though that could be just as embarrassing, if not more.

She glanced up as Warrick walked into the room. When he saw that Catherine had her jeans up and her sneakers on, he shook his head. "Couldn't wait?" he asked lightly.

"No," Catherine admitted. "I can't get my shoes tied, and I…kind of need help with my, uh…my bra."

If Warrick was uncomfortable, he didn't show it, much to Catherine's relief. He kneeled in front of her, picking up her leg and placing his foot on his knee. He tied her shoe, repeating the action with her other foot. He glanced up at Catherine, his hand resting on her knee. "How do you want to do this?" he asked softly.

"If you help me get this top off, I should be able to pull the bra up on my own," Catherine said. "I would just need you to hook it."

"Okay, Cath, whatever works for you." Moving behind her, he untied the gown. Catherine slid it off, and dropped it to the ground. Covering her bare chest with her one arm and reaching forward, she grabbed her bra from the bed. There was a bit of blood on it, much to Catherine's disdain, as that was one of her most comfortable and sexy bras. Slowly, she slid it over her arms and rested the straps against her shoulder, adjusting it in the front.

"How far down is the cut?" she asked Warrick. "Can you touch the top of the bandage for me?" He touched a spot about halfway up her back. "Okay, the back shouldn't touch the bandage, which is good," she said more to herself then Warrick. "Can you hook me?" she asked shyly. "The second row please?"

Warrick hooked her bra for her, untwisting the straps as well. "You doing okay?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Catherine answered, somewhat teary. "Does the bandage need to be changed?"

Warrick glanced over the bandage, which was heavily padded. "There's no sign of blood, and they just bandaged it about an hour ago, so you should be fine," he told her.

"What time is it, anyways?" Catherine asked.

"It's about five-thirty in the morning," Warrick responded. At Catherine's nod, he handed her his t-shirt. It was black and had the logo for the University of Las Vegas, and underneath that it said 'Basketball' in large letters.

Catherine managed to slip it on with some effort, standing slowly as she looked at Warrick. He kind of wanted to laugh, as the shirt was too big for Catherine, and she pretty much swam in it. The bottom of the t-shirt fell to the middle of her thighs, and the sleeves fell to right below her elbows

Without waiting for her to ask, Warrick, rolled the sleeves up several times until they were right above her elbow. "That better?" he asked Catherine.

She smiled shyly at him, then answered, "Much." Catherine leaned against the bed and shuffled her feet impatiently, wondering what was taking the doctor so long to come back with her release papers. She was about to say something when he walked back into the room.

The doctor's eyes ran over her disapprovingly. "I suppose that there is nothing I can say or do to convince you to stay here." It was more of a statement then a question, which Catherine confirmed with a firm shake of her head. The doctor shook his head, handing over the clipboard to Catherine. "Ms. Willows, I highly recommend that you not leave this hospital. Doing so could cause even more injury to yourself. However, since you insist that you want to leave, you're going to have to know a few things. First of all, try not to lift anything heavy for a few weeks. In addition, make sure that you keep the suture sight clean and change the bandage frequently to fight infection. Do not get the stitches wet, either. In seven to ten days you can get them removed by your physician. I understand that you are a criminalist, but I don't want you working in the lab for a few days or out in the field for two weeks. Your back is going to be very sore for awhile, and I don't want you tearing the stitches or hurting yourself out in the field.

"You have extensive bruising around your nose and eyes, but nothing is broken. You should be able to take Tylenol to help with the pain, and ice the area if need be," the doctor finished. "Ms. Willows, I hope that you know what you are doing here…"

"I do, doctor, and it's just that I have a lot to deal with right now," she interrupted him, "So where are the papers?" He handed them over to Catherine, who scribbled her name in a flourish. "Thank you, doctor," Catherine said softly, turning to the door. "Come on, Rick, let's get out of here."

"I'm sorry, but hospital regulations mandate that you leave in a wheelchair," the doctor said hastily. "I know that you are signing out AMA, but at least let us wheel you out. You look like you can barely stand on two feet."

Catherine opened her mouth to protest, only to have Warrick settle a hand on her shoulder. "Just let them do it, Cath," he breathed in her ear. "You aren't looking too good."

Sensing defeat, Catherine finally nodded, leaning against Warrick's chest as the doctor left to fetch a nurse and a wheelchair. Her legs were still shaking, and it felt good to be leaning against someone. He wrapped his arms around Catherine's waist. Instinctively, he pressed a kiss to the top of Catherine's head. She glanced up at him, offering a weak smile. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For being here for me. Even though it's been a rough couple of weeks for both of us, I appreciate you supporting me and sticking with me," Catherine answered. "It means so much to me."

"I know," Warrick said softly. "I'll always be here for you, Catherine."

She opened her mouth to respond, only to glance over when the nurse walked into the room, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. "Good morning, Ms. Willows," the nurse said a little too cheerfully. "I understand that you're ready to ditch this joint!"

Catherine managed a small smile, moving away from Warrick slowly. She sat down in the wheelchair, lifting her feet into the rests. The nurse slowly started pushing her to the door. "So, what happened to your back?" the nurse asked.

Catherine stiffened slightly, wondering how to respond. "I, uh…I fell," Catherine finally replied. "Hit it on the coffee table." Remembering the bruising on her face, she hastily added, "Hit my head on the end table as I fell, too."

"Wow, honey, you sure did a number on yourself," the nurse said lightly. "How'd you manage to convince the doctor to spring you?"

"I have an important meeting at work that I can't miss," Catherine lied.

"Important job?"

"Yeah, something like that." Catherine tried to keep the impatience out of her voice, knowing that the nurse was just trying to hold a conversation instead of walking to the parking lot in silence. However, the last thing that she wanted to do was talk to anyone.

The nurse seemed to sense Catherine's edginess, and didn't speak anymore as they made their way to the exit. Seeing the SUV at the front of the hospital, Catherine glanced up at Warrick.

"I pulled it up here since you were being released," he explained.

"Thanks," Catherine breathed. She owed him so much for the last couple weeks. He had been a constant rock for her to lean on, and she was eternally grateful. Catherine wasn't sure if there was any way to repay him at this point.

"Ms. Willows, do you need any help into the SUV?" the nurse asked kindly.

"I think that I can do it," Catherine answered. The nurse and Warrick helped her out of the low wheelchair, and Catherine shakily made her way to the SUV. She gripped the handle in the car, starting to hoist herself into the SUV, only to halt when she felt Warrick's hand on her hips.

"Let me help you, Cath," Warrick said softly. She nodded, feeling Warrick easily lift her into the SUV, reaching across the seat to grasp the seatbelt in order to buckle her in. Once she was settled, he patted her knee and shut the door.

Warrick offered gratitude to the nurse, hustling around to the driver's side and climbing into the seat. He glanced over at Catherine, buckling himself in. "I don't suppose that you'd allow me to take you home?" At Catherine's glare, he quipped, "I didn't think so."

~/~

Catherine wasn't sure when she fell asleep, but when she woke up, Warrick was shaking her shoulder and she was looking at the west wall of the crime lab. "Hey, Cath, we're here," he said softly. She stretched slightly, trying to hide the pain in her face as her back protested. It didn't go unnoticed by Warrick, who sympathetically asked, "Hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Catherine admitted.

"Why don't we go ahead and take care of business, and then we'll get you some Tylenol?" Warrick asked.

"Sounds good to me," Catherine said with a sigh. Warrick nodded, rushing around the side of the SUV and opening the door before Catherine could. He helped her out, noticing that Catherine was leaning on him heavily. He opened his mouth to comment, but decided not to at the last moment.

"Where do you want to go?" Warrick asked, though he was sure that he knew the answer already.

"I need to find Lindsey," Catherine said firmly. "At this point, she's probably in interrogation."

"Probably," Warrick agreed, wrapping an arm around Catherine's waist. Briefly, he thought about Kay Peterson and all the havoc that she had wreaked in Catherine and his life. Deciding that he didn't care, he pulled Catherine closer as they walked to the lab, slowing his steps to match hers.

To say that shock registered on about 99% of the staff's faces when Catherine trudged though the doors, barely able to stand on her own two feet, was an understatement. Sara was the first to snap out of her stupor, jogging over to Catherine and Warrick. "Cath, what are you doing here?" Sara asked softly, her voice bordering on incredulous and concerned.

"I need to see Lindsey," Catherine answered, shifting slightly. "Do you know where she is?"

"I, uh…" Sara trailed off, unsure if she should tell her colleague where her daughter was. "She's…"

"Sara, please, tell me." Catherine was unable to keep the note of desperation out of her voice. With surprising strength, she reached forward and grasped Sara's sleeve. "Please, I need to know."

Sara glanced at Warrick, whose expression was unreadable. "She's in interrogation," Sara finally admitted. "They just took her there."

Catherine stared at Sara for a long time, finally letting go of her sleeve. "Thank you," Catherine whispered hoarsely. She set forth determinedly, making her way to the interrogation area until she found the room that contained her daughter.

Jim and Gil were talking quietly as they looked through the glass, and the sound of Catherine's footsteps behind them caused the duo to turn in unison. Gil raised an eyebrow in surprise at her appearance, but Jim didn't look surprised for some reason. Catherine made a mental note to ask him about that later.

"Catherine, what are you doing here? Did the doctor let you out already?" Gil was the first to speak up, stepping closer to his colleague.

"Have you talked to her yet?" Catherine ignored both of Gil's questions. Despite the fact that she had been hit in the head and suffered from a large amount of blood loss, she hadn't forgotten about his antics at her house earlier in the morning. She and Gil had been friends for a long time, but at the moment, she was livid with him. They'd be fine in a few weeks, of course, but for the moment, Catherine was going to let him sweat.

"I talked to her," Jim confirmed.

"What did she say?" Catherine questioned Jim. "Is she okay?"

"She's upset-"

"At me?"

"No…well, yes, but she's just upset in general," Jim began, choosing his next words carefully. "She's mad at a lot of people. She's mad at you, her father, Sam, her teachers, us…everyone."

"But…why? I haven't done anything to her," Catherine whispered. "I've only tried to be a good mother."

"And I think she realizes that, Cath," Jim said. "She admitted that she has these extreme bursts of anger, and that she needs help controlling them."

"Has she asked for me?"

"No."

Hurt flashed across Catherine's face, but she just nodded, swallowing back the lump in her throat. "So what do I do? Are you charging her with assault?"

Jim sighed consideringly, wondering how to go about his suggestion. "Catherine…I have some friends who run a camp for troubled teenagers."

"What kind of troubled teenagers?"

"Gang members, robbers, ones who assault people…ones who skip school," Jim answered. Worry flashed across Catherine's features, but she nodded in indication for Jim to continue. "It's a boot camp type deal where the individuals are…shall we say, broken of their old habits in order to improve upon their life."

"A boot camp?" Catherine asked hoarsely. "But Lindsey's not-"

"Yes, she is Catherine," Jim cut her off before she could finish the thought. "She's cutting school, wrecking your car, assaulting you – a member of the police, for God's sake! From the sounds of your argument this morning, it sounds as if she's having sex, too!"

"She wasn't having sex," Catherine protested, embarrassment creeping to her cheeks as they flushed red. "They were just-"

"Cath, you know what they were about to do," Jim finished gently.

Catherine broke her gaze from his, staring at her daughter through the glass, tears filling her eyes as she pondered what to do. She felt terrible about even considering sending her baby away, but it was clear that Lindsey needed help. She felt Warrick place a hand on her shoulder, and she didn't care that Gil was there. She looked up at her friend, drawing strength from his green eyes.

"What would I have to do?" Catherine finally asked. "In order to get her into this camp?"

"You'd have to sign some paperwork and go before a judge in order for him to waive the trial date that they will set for Lindsey on the traffic charges," Jim replied.

"Will this look better against her driving charges and her assault," the words caught in Catherine's throat, and she had to will herself not to break down there, "Her assault against me?"

"Yes, it will. There's a very good chance she wouldn't have to do any jail time as a result of her completing this program," Jim answered in a matter of fact tone. "And chances are she'll come back a brand new person with a new outlook on life."

Catherine nodded, rubbing a hand across her face. It was becoming increasingly hard to stay on her feet, and she feared that her legs may collapse beneath her in seconds. "Does she know about this option?"

"She does," Jim confirmed.

"What does she think of it?"

"She's protesting it," Jim admitted. "She knows she has a problem, but she doesn't think that she needs help from a boot camp."

Catherine nodded, staring through the window again. Lindsey looked restless and even a little frightened as she sat in the empty interrogation room. "I want to talk to her," Catherine stated. "Alone."

"No, Cath, I can't let you do that," Gil spoke up for the first time in minutes, shaking his head to emphasize his point.

"Gil, you can't keep me from her," Catherine snapped. "That's my daughter!"

"Forget that she's your daughter, Catherine," Grissom replied. "She's still technically a suspect and she assaulted you! You're in no condition to be here, and I'm not letting you interrogate a suspect when you're not in full control of your emotions or at full strength."

"I'm fine, Gil," Catherine answered. "I'll take Brass or Warrick in there with me."

Anger flashed in his eyes when she specifically didn't mention his name, but it vanished a second after it appeared. "You're not going in there," Gil finally said.

Catherine bravely stepped to the door, the challenge clearly written on her face. "Try and stop me," she growled. When Gil made no move, she continued pushing the door to the interrogation room open, entering it without a second thought.

Warrick was one step behind her.

~/~

End 10/?


	11. Tantalize

This author's note comes with a thank you from the very bottom of my heart. As of Chapter 10, not only did I break 100 reviews, but I also broke my personal record for reviews here at . The previous record was 107 for my Law and Order: SVU fic, Branded. As of the posting of this chapter, I am at 108 and I know that I'm gonna shatter the old record by the time this one is said and done.

Thank you to Chris (who was the record breaking 108th review!), Brillows4Ever, MrsWillows, connieLover, AutumnDoe, name-me, aty, Wileret, Double I 4 My Guys, YoblingDramoineLover, and tawnyfur0426 for their reviews on this chapter. Thanks too to the folks who are adding me to their alerts/favorites. Thanks also to Ms. Taylor for betaing. Seriously, I'd be lost without you.

That's about it. Nothing else is really new unless anyone is interested on bidding on some sets of WWE trading cards over at eBay. Lol! Enjoy, and please drop me a review! =)

~/~

Catherine slowly pushed open the door to the interrogation room. Lindsey didn't look up as her mother entered the room; rather, she simply stared at the table in front of her. Catherine felt a lump rise in her throat, wondering what had come between the two of them.

The door clicked quietly behind Warrick, and Catherine walked up to the table. Catherine placed her palms against the table, closing her eyes against the pain radiating through her back. When she finally opened her eyes, Lindsey was staring up at her apprehensively.

The duo looked at each other for several long seconds before Lindsey finally looked away. Shame was written on her face, and if Catherine wasn't mistaken, her daughter looked as if she were going to cry.

"Lindsey…I'm not here to yell at you," Catherine began quietly, shifting so she could sit down in the chair across from her daughter. She involuntarily flinched as her back hit the hard backing of the chair, waves of pain shooting through her spine at the contact. She took a deep breath to continue, but Lindsey spoke up.

"I hurt you."

The three words hung in the air as Catherine blinked, unsure of what to say. "I…yes, you did, Lindsey," Catherine finally answered, hating the look of anguish that crossed her daughter's face.

"What's wrong? Did - is your nose broken?" Lindsey asked.

Catherine shook her head in response. "No, it's just bruising," she said. Seeing Lindsey's dubious look, she added, "No concussion."

"Anything else?"

Catherine wondered to herself whether she should tell Lindsey about her back, but after a moment of debating, she finally said, "I just bumped my back on the coffee table when I went down. Nothing major."

Lindsey nodded, tears forming in her eyes. "Mom, I'm so sorry," she blurted out. Her mother blinked in response, settling back carefully in the chair. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you have been," Catherine pointed out gently. "When you start fights with me that hurts as much as you physically striking me." She hated having to point out the errors of her child, but it had gone too far. She glanced back at Warrick, noting to herself that he was standing against the wall, his arms crossed almost as if he was on guard.

"I know, and I'm sorry," Lindsey answered, the tears spilling over and making trails down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry. Can you forgive me?"

"Of course I can, Lindsey," Catherine answered, reaching across the table and taking Lindsey's hand, relief flowing through her when Lindsey didn't pull away. "But I think that you need help."

"What kind of help?" Lindsey asked warily.

"Jim and I were talking, and he said that there is a…camp that his friend runs for troubled teenagers," Catherine chose her words carefully. "If you were to attend this camp, there's a very good chance that you won't have to serve jail time due to your driving charges or, uh, any charges that come up tonight."

"What kind of camp is this?" Lindsey asked, fear crossing her face for the first time in months.

"It's a boot camp, Linds," Catherine answered.

"You want to send me to a boot camp?" Lindsey asked, her voice rising a few octaves. "Mom, you can't do that to me!"

"Lindsey, my hands are tied," Catherine pleaded with her daughter. "Please, try to understand. I don't want to do this, but this is the only way that I can keep you from spending time in jail!"

Not only that, but as much as she hated to admit it, Catherine feared that if Lindsey didn't receive some intervention soon, she would hurt Catherine again. While she was her mother, it hadn't stopped her this morning, and seeing that Lindsey had half of Eddie's genes, it was possible that Lindsey would continue to use her mother as a punching bag as her father had for so long. There were so many times that Eddie had sworn that he was going to stop, yet he still beat her senseless so many nights after. Catherine Willows would be damned if she would go through that again.

Lindsey swallowed, suddenly looking much younger then her fifteen years. "I'm so sorry, Mom," she finally said softly. "I've never really been fair to you, have I?"

Catherine was unsure of what to say at the sudden change in topic. "I, uh…it's not really just you, honey," she finally murmured, "I just wish I had a normal job where I could spend more time with you. I hate that we don't get that much time together."

Lindsey sniffled slightly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Silence reigned over the room for a moment before the younger Willows said, "When do I leave for this boot camp?"

"I don't know, baby," Catherine answered, her voice cracking as tears sprang to her eyes. "I have to talk to a judge."

Lindsey sniffled again, tears slipping down her cheeks once again. Catherine rose to her feet, rounding the table as fast as her aching back would allow her. Hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around Lindsey, relieved when she didn't pull away or lash out. Catherine's tears fell on Lindsey's head as her daughter repeatedly apologized.

"I love you, Lindsey," Catherine whispered. "Remember that, please?"

"I love you too, Mom," Lindsey replied hoarsely.

A rapid knock sounded at the door, indicating that Jim - or someone - wanted Catherine and Warrick out of the room. Catherine glanced down at her daughter, who looked back at her with red eyes. "I need to go, honey," Catherine finally said softly. "I'll be back to let you know what the judge decides, okay?"

"Okay," Lindsey replied meekly, her hand gripping the sleeve of Catherine's t-shirt. "Mom, please get some sleep, though. You don't look too good."

Catherine managed a smile for Lindsey. "I'm fine," she lied. She squeezed Lindsey's shoulder before pressing a kiss on the top of her head. "I'll be back soon." She gingerly made her way to the door, nodding her thanks to Warrick as he held it open for her.

She was met with the irate face of Conrad Ecklie. "Willows, what the hell are you doing in there with a suspect?!" he laid into her the second the door was closed. She flinched at his loud tone, his voice permeating her forehead as the headache throbbed against her skull.

"Conrad, I-"

"Not to mention that that suspect is your daughter!" Ecklie bellowed, stepping close to Catherine. She took a startled step back, gasping in pain when her back hit the door; nevertheless, she composed herself quickly.

"Get away from me!" Catherine warned, her hands clenching into fists, ready to strike out in defense if need be.

"Back off!" Jim yelled, stepping between the pair. "Ecklie, I know you are mad, but there's no reason to invade her personal space!"

Ecklie blinked, realizing a second too late what he had done. Catherine was breathing hard, fury written across her thin features as she silently dared him to come closer. "Jesus Christ," he started, only to shake his head. "Willows, you're suspended," Ecklie finally snapped.

"For what?!" Catherine yelled.

"For interrogating a suspect that you have personal ties to!" Ecklie shot back.

"You can't suspend me-"

"I can do whatever the hell I want-"

"-because I quit!" Catherine finished, snatching her badge off her belt. She held it in her fingers for a few moments before throwing it at his feet. Jim, Gil, and Warrick's mouths dropped open at Catherine's words.

"You can't quit!" Ecklie sputtered. "You're fired!"

"Screw you!" Catherine spat, turning as fast as she could without jarring her back. She stalked to the door, slamming it as she left.

Warrick shook his head to clear it before lumbering after Catherine, sending a glare Ecklie's way before taking off. "You better watch your ass, Brown," Ecklie yelled after Warrick. "You're on thin ice too, buddy!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Gil finally yelled, stepping in front of Ecklie in order to stop his tirade at the retreating CSI's back. "You can't just fire members of my team without grounds!"

"I can fire whomever the hell I want, Grissom, and you better watch your step as well because I'm in a very bad mood," Ecklie snarled, turning to the officer standing at the door. "Officer Akers, make sure that Ms. Willows is escorted off the property!"

The officer slunk out of the room, not wanting to be the one to make sure that Catherine didn't do anything on the way out of the office. He had been the one to botch one of her cases a few years ago, resulting in the CSI suffering a fairly serious head wound and minor concussion. Akers could only imagine what CSI Willows would say to him at this point.

Grissom stared after Akers, his mouth slightly agape. He shook his head to get out of the momentary stupor, then glowered at Ecklie. "Who the hell do you think you are?!" Grissom finally hissed.

Ecklie blinked at Grissom's question, then glared back at Grissom. "I'm-"

"You know what," Grissom interrupted. "I'm not going to stand here and let you pull politics! You're not firing Catherine!"

"I already did!"

"Well, I'm hiring her back!"

"You can't do that!"

"Yes, I can!"

"No, you can't!"

Grissom turned on his heel, moving to exit the room. He wasn't about to stand around while Catherine probably had half her locker cleaned out already. He had to stop her: and fast.

"You better not walk out this room, Grissom," Ecklie warned.

"Or what?" Grissom couldn't help but challenge.

"I'll fire you too."

"On what grounds?" Grissom laughed disbelievingly.

"For aiding a woman who breaks rules at the crime lab," Ecklie answered.

Grissom quirked an eyebrow at Ecklie, then asked, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The allegations that Kay Peterson made-"

"Are false."

Ecklie scoffed. "And how do you know?"

Grissom shrugged. "I've asked the team," he responded simply.

"And you trust them to tell the truth about one of their friends?"

"Absolutely." Grissom spoke without hesitation, his voice clear as he stared at the man in front of him.

Ecklie merely shook his head. "Now come on, Grissom, you asked the most biased group possible-"

"They're no more biased then Kay Peterson!" Grissom cut Ecklie off.

That seemed to stall the balding man, who stared at Grissom uneasily for a few seconds. "What are you talking about?" he finally asked warily. "Kay Peterson is a respected journalist – who is a dear friend of mine I might add."

"Figures," Grissom answered with a smirk, turning his back and walking into the hall, his destination being the locker room so he could possibly try to stop Catherine from leaving. His progress was halted, however, when Ecklie grabbed Grissom's shoulder and whirled him around.

"What are you talking about?" Ecklie's tone was no-nonsense, yet there was a trace of fear in his words.

"Well, I didn't believe a word of the article. I know that Catherine and Warrick are not dating because they are my team, and I would notice," Grissom began.

"Yeah, how so?"

Grissom smiled at Ecklie despite the seriousness of the situation. "When Catherine falls for a guy, there's little things that she does. For example, she starts wearing her hair down more," he said. Seeing Ecklie's dubious look, he shrugged. "It's true. I've known her for twenty years and she's always done it."

"That's not proof!" Ecklie sputtered. "Besides, what would Peterson have to gain from lying?"

"You know, Ecklie, when Peterson began making these allegations on Catherine and Warrick, I refused to believe a single word of it," he began. "So I took the liberty of doing a little research."

"What kind of research?" Ecklie asked warily.

Grissom glanced at the file that he held in his hand, flipping it open. Ecklie hadn't noticed the file until Gil opened it, and now he wondered what it contained.

"Harriet Anderson," Gil read aloud. "CEO of a major company, stepped down after Peterson alleged she had an affair with a competing company." He flipped a paper, then continued, "Gina Helgen. Professor at LVU, was fired after Peterson claimed that she was having a relationship with a student. I won't bore you with the details, but there are twenty other women who had their careers ruined thanks to Peterson's unfounded allegations. And trust me, all of them are angry."

"What's that have to do with Willows?"

"Don't you see?" Grissom finally snapped. "She has a problem with women with authority!"

"Not true," Ecklie shook his head. "I refuse to believe-"

"Do you refuse to believe that Peterson plagiarized an article, too?"

Ecklie's jaw dropped. "What are you talking about?" he finally managed to sputter.

Grissom finally smiled, knowing that he had Ecklie. He pulled an article clipping out of his file, holding it up in Ecklie's face. "This article posted in the Vegas Times four years ago was originally written by my dear friend Dr. James Hall. The disk that it was originally on vanished – conveniently, the same day that Kay Peterson happened to be visiting – but James had a copy on paper. He's been waiting for the perfect time to go to the media, and I think that this is it…"

Ecklie's mouth gaped open. "You can't do that," Ecklie finally said. "You'll ruin her career."

"You know, I wouldn't want to," Grissom said with a sinister smile. "I think I'll leave that up to CSI Willows."

"Ex-CSI Willows," Ecklie called.

"She's not fired," Grissom said calmly.

"Yes, she is," Ecklie answered, though his tone seemed less confident.

"I'm not going to stand here and argue, Conrad," Grissom said sweetly. "I'm sure the state will be more than willing to overturn your wrongful termination of Catherine when they see that you went on the word of a lying, conniving bitch instead of the word of a  
dedicated, hard working, top level CSI."

With that, he turned, walking down the hall at a fast pace, his destination being the locker room. "Please don't let her be gone," Grissom muttered to himself, knowing that it was probably a useless plea but still sighing in frustration when he saw that the room was empty. Pulling his cell phone from the clip, he hit speed dial one, waiting a few seconds for the phone to ring.

His gaze snapped to the bench when he heard ringing, and Grissom groaned with disdain when he saw Catherine's vest, gun, and cell phone laying there. "Damn it, no!" Grissom muttered, ducking out of the room and jogging to the exit as he hit speed dial two on his phone. He waited until it connected, letting out an uncharacteristic curse when the phone went straight to voicemail.

"Warrick, call me when you get this," Grissom spoke tersely. Seeing Officer Akers reentering the building, he descended upon the young officer. "Are they gone?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yes, sir," Akers responded. "I didn't realize that you didn't want her to-"

"It's fine, officer," Grissom said with a sigh. "Damn it!"

He had to find away to get Catherine – and Warrick – back.

~/~

Catherine sighed as she entered her house, Warrick just a couple feet behind her. Catherine looked in her house, feeling tears spring to her eyes as she looked at her living room. Her end table was moved from her back striking it, dried blood on her carpet.

"You okay, Cath?" Warrick asked softly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she answered. She slowly made her way into the room, briefly wondering how she even made it this far. Her legs were shaking and she felt as if she were about to faint. On top of that, Catherine's back was throbbing constantly.

She made her way carefully to the kitchen, shuffling over to the cabinets that were under her sink. Catherine stooped down, finding her carpet cleaner and pulling it out. She grabbed a handful of paper towels, making her way back into the living room, only to be halted when Warrick took the items from her hands.

"Rick, what are you-"

"Cath, just relax for five minutes, okay?" Warrick pleaded with her. "Sit down on the couch and let me clean your carpet and bathroom."

"I can do it," Catherine argued.

"Hey, I know that you can," Warrick answered. "But just let me do it."

Catherine finally nodded, sinking into the couch. She propped her feet up, watching as Warrick sprayed her carpet and attempted to scrub the blood out.

"I'm going to go and clean your bathroom, okay, Cath?" Warrick asked. "I'll be right back."

"Okay," Catherine agreed, stretching out. Her plush couch provided some comfort across her back, and she soon found herself lightly dozing, pure exhaustion overtaking her anxiousness and fragile state of mind.

She awoke minutes later, however, when Warrick attempted to slip his arms underneath her to pick the redhead up. Catherine grumbled in protest when his arm brushed her stitches.

"Sorry, sorry," Warrick said hastily. "I just want to take you upstairs so you're a little more comfortable."

"I'm fine here," Catherine protested, nevertheless wrapping her arms around Warrick's neck as he carefully picked her up. "You don't have to carry me-"

"I know, but I want to," Warrick said gently, carrying her up the steps. "Is it okay if I change your bandage for you before you lay down?"

"Mm hmm," Catherine answered noncommittally, resting her head against his chest.

Warrick made his way into Catherine's room, gently setting her on her bed. "Can you pull your shirt up and then lie on your stomach?" he asked.

Catherine pulled her shirt over her head and laid down as he asked, closing her eyes. She felt Warrick carefully pulling the tape back, looking at her wound.

"I have gauze, medical tape, Neosporin, and antiseptic wipes under my bathroom sink," Catherine murmured into the pillow. "How does it look?"

"It looks nasty," Warrick admitted. "It's bruising and swollen, but it's not infected."

"That's good," Catherine replied sleepily.

"I'm gonna go grab the stuff, I'll be right back," Warrick promised.

Catherine closed her eyes, waiting for her friend to come back. She started to doze off again when she felt the bed dip, and she sleepily looked up at Warrick.

"Thank you for doing this," Catherine murmured. "I hope that you didn't get in trouble for leaving with me."

"Don't worry about that, Cath," Warrick chastised her gently. "Think about yourself for once, okay?"

She closed her eyes again against the soothing Neosporin, enjoying the feel of Warrick's smooth palms on her back. "It's weird, I'm out of a job and my daughter is going to a boot camp yet for some reason I feel….at ease," Catherine admitted. "I don't understand it."

Warrick was silent for a moment, then he spoke up. "Catherine, I don't know what to say," he told her hesitantly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Catherine mumbled against the pillows. "It's not your fault. And besides, maybe it's for the better."

"How can you say that?" Warrick asked, placing a large piece of tape over the gauze he had placed over her wound. He worked quickly in order to prevent infection from it being uncovered.

Catherine felt him putting the last bit of tape on the gauze, and she carefully pulled her tank top down before rolling on her side and looking up at him.

"Maybe we can…" she trailed off, a blush coming to her cheeks. "I don't know, Rick. Forget it."

"No," Warrick chastised gently, forcing her to look at him when she glanced down. "What about us?"

"Maybe…" Catherine hesitated again, trying to work up her nerve in order to say what she was thinking to Warrick. She had waited too long a few years ago and lost him to Tina, which had broken her heart. Now, the pair was divorced, yet Catherine couldn't seem to work up the nerve.

"Maybe we can try something."

The words came out so fast that Warrick could hardly understand them. Catherine flushed even deeper as she waited for Warrick to turn her down.

"I'd like that."

Her eyes shot up to meet his, the strawberry blond seeing nothing but truth, honesty, and love in the depths. "Warrick…" she breathed, hesitantly reaching her hand to his.

Warrick's fingers instantly interlocked with hers, the tall man easing his body next to hers. He propped his elbow on the pillow as he stared at Catherine. "I'd like that," he finally repeated. "For so long…God, Catherine, for so long, I've wanted to be with you. You don't know how long I've regretted marrying Tina. I should have gone after you so long ago."

Catherine swallowed nervously when Warrick moved closer, his knee touching hers. Suddenly, it seemed as if the temperature in the room went up one hundred degrees, and she wanted nothing more then to make love to Warrick right then and there…to feel his hands on her body and him inside of her…

She shook her head clear of the thoughts, reaching her free hand to brush an errant curl away from his forehead. "Do you think that…that we could try this?" Catherine asked shyly.

"Are you asking me out on a date, Catherine Willows?" Warrick asked, a tiny smile playing at his lips.

"Well, I – yes," Catherine admitted. "I've liked you for so long, and as I told you so many years ago, I've fantasized about us, and I would love to try this."

Warrick leaned forward and pressed his lips chastely against her forehead. Catherine stared dreamily up at him…

…then promptly yawned.

Warrick laughed at the horrified look that came across Catherine's face and moved closer to her, hugging her slim body to his, being mindful of the stitches along the base of her back. For a brief moment, he couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to run his hands over her heated skin, but he controlled himself. She was still injured, after all, and he didn't want to ruin what would undoubtedly be a special moment for them.

"It's okay, baby, get some sleep," Warrick encouraged her, letting go of her hand for a moment so that he could pull a pillow closer to her head, encouraging Catherine to rest her head.

"Are you going to leave me?" Catherine asked sleepily, looking to him with pleading eyes.

"No," Warrick said gently, interlocking their fingers once again. "I'm not leaving you now, or ever."

~/~

End 11/15


	12. Trip

Well howdy there! Not much to say here except that my thoughts and prayers are with the Kennedy family with the passing of Senator Ted Kennedy. Whether you like the Kennedy's or not, they are a political dynasty in the United States. As a future special education teacher, I am forever grateful for his work to get the Americans With Disabilities Act, No Child Left Behind, and other educational/disability acts passed in order to allow all people in the United States to have an opportunity to thrive.

Thanks to Chris (who enjoys my random late night texts ordering him to review my story), YoblingDramoineLover, Wileret, MrsWillows, lil Kass, aty, Double I 4 My Guys, connieLover, name-me, and AutumnDoe for their nice reviews the last also to the folks who are adding me to their alerts/favorites. Thanks also to Taylor for betaing and making sure that I don't overuse the ellipse! ;-)

Please take a second to let me know what you think of the chapter! I'm probably going to post my one-shot soon, and I'm not one to toot my own horn, but I absolutely love how this turned out. I'll hit you up with a link in the next chapter, or I suppose those of you darlings who have me under your author alert will get it that way.

Enjoy!

~/~

When Warrick awoke a few hours later, it was to persistent knocking at Catherine's door. He glanced down at Catherine, not surprised to see that she was fast asleep. The exhaustion of the last few weeks really seemed to have finally taken a toll on her and even with the combination of knocking and the doorbell ringing, she hadn't stirred. He took a moment to look over her. Even in her sleep, the worry lines and sheer tiredness were evident among her thin, frail features. When she woke up, he was going to cook her a nice big dinner. She deserved – no, she _needed_ – that.

"All right, all right," Warrick muttered to himself, carefully extracting himself from Catherine's arms when the doorbell rang once again. "Hold your damn horses."

He took a brief moment to smile down at Catherine one more time, covering her body carefully with the blankets on the bed. He pressed a chaste kiss on her forehead before lumbering down the stairs to open the door.

Warrick glanced through the peephole, sucking in a breath when he saw Grissom standing there impatiently, tapping a manila folder against his palm. Quickly, Warrick ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes, trying his hardest to offset the fact that he had been sleeping. He smoothed the wrinkles in his shirt as best as he could, and then opened the door.

"First of all, I don't even want to know where you were sleeping, and second of all, I'm glad that there wasn't an emergency at the lab where we needed you," Grissom snapped, making his way into Catherine's house. "Why is your phone off?"

"I-" Warrick began, only to be cut off by Grissom.

"You know what, I don't care. Where is Catherine?" he asked.

"She's sleeping," Warrick answered. "It seems that the last few weeks have been rough on her."

"Can you wake her up?"

"Wha…no, Grissom. Do you know how worn she is? The fact that she actually fell asleep and stayed sleeping through your pounding on the door says a lot, man," Warrick told Grissom. "So whatever you have can either wait until she wakes up on her own, or you can leave a message with me seeing that Catherine no longer works at the lab."

His tone was accusing, and Grissom couldn't help but flinch a little at Warrick's words. Grissom knew that Warrick and Catherine were close – if not closer than he knew – and he had a feeling that Warrick knew of all the recent arguments Catherine and Grissom had had. Still, Grissom squared his shoulders, staring back at the taller man.

"Catherine's not fired," Grissom spoke evenly. "In fact, she's expected to be at work tonight."

"What, was Ecklie suddenly scared that she was going to sue?" Warrick scoffed.

"Probably," Grissom lied, not feeling the need to go into the details of his argument with Ecklie about Catherine. "But I also found out some important information that may help Catherine with her…battle with Kay Peterson."

"What about Peterson?" Warrick asked, glancing at the file in Grissom's hand. He reached down to take it from Grissom, who pulled it back from his grasp. "What the hell, Grissom?" Warrick asked angrily. After all, it was his name that was being drug through the mad as well, and he felt that he had a right to see what was in that file.

"This is for Catherine-"

"In case you didn't notice, I've been a target of that bitch as well. I deserve to know what's going on!" Warrick exclaimed.

Grissom hesitated, taking a deep breath. He handed the file over to Warrick, who accepted it gratefully. "I've been doing some research about Kay Peterson," Grissom began. "I didn't believe a word of what she said about you two." He looked over Warrick, crossing his arms. "_Are_ her claims true?"

Warrick glanced up from the file, meeting Gil's intense gaze. "There wasn't anything other than friendly bantering or playful flirting between the two of us until about three hours ago," he admitted.

Grissom blinked, realizing the implications of what Warrick had said. "Are you two – ?"

"I don't even know, Grissom. We shared some words, and admitted some feelings, but…I honestly don't know where we stand," Warrick said.

Grissom nodded, sitting carefully on Catherine's couch. "You do realize that if – when – Catherine comes back, you two can't be on the same team if you are in a relationship, right?" he asked gently.

Warrick sighed heavily, knowing that Grissom was right. However, it all depended on Catherine and whether she would even be back to work at the lab. Ecklie had infuriated her off beyond belief this time, and she was just burnt out from having to deal with Sam's death, Lindsey, Lillian, Peterson.

He glanced down at the file in his hand, choosing to ignore Grissom's question for the moment. "What is Peterson's deal? What kind of information do you have about her?" Warrick questioned.

Grissom, however, noticed that Warrick blatantly ignored his question; nevertheless, he simply ran a hand through his silver curls and stated, "It's a long story, but she's stirring up a lot of trouble."

"Like what?"

"There are approximately two dozen women who have been demoted, fired, or forced to relocate their services after Kay Peterson posted articles on them," Grissom began.

"So her lying…?"

Warrick let the question hang in the air, and Grissom nodded. "Yeah. Her false accusations have wreaked havoc among the powerful," he explained.

"Why didn't these women fight back?" Warrick asked, glancing over Grissom's notes.

"My guess is that they didn't have the support from their higher ups, or they didn't have the resources to do so," Grissom reasoned.

"Is there anything else?" Warrick asked.

"Yeah – plagiarism," Grissom said grimly. "It seems that Kay Peterson stole a disk that came from my friend's desk a few years ago. I just need to find a way to prove it."

"So not only is she a lying, conniving bitch, but she's a stealing bitch as well," Warrick shrugged. He whistled lightly as he looked over the papers. "I can't believe all this stuff. How did no one pick up on this?"

"My guess is that either the editors at the Times missed it, or they turned their heads because Peterson is such a 'good' journalist who brings in revenue," Grissom answered. He glanced up the stairs, wishing that Catherine would come down. He owed her an apology, and he wanted to explain the Kay Peterson situation to her.

Warrick followed his glance, settling down in her armchair. "I want her to see this, but I feel so bad waking her," he said softly. "She needs the rest."

"I know," Grissom agreed, settling his head against the soft backing. "Is she okay?"

"Physically or mentally?"

"Both."

Warrick closed the file, setting it down on the coffee table before leaning back. He pressed his fingertips together, trying to figure out the right words to describe Catherine's body and state of mind to their supervisor without giving too much away.

"She's…uh, her back and head seem to be okay," Warrick began. "There's extensive bruising and swelling on her back and face, but everything looks to be healing well. She's going to have a pretty bad scar on her back though." He paused, then added, "I don't really want to get into her frame of mind. Only Catherine can be the one to tell you about that."

Grissom nodded in response. "Fair enough. Is…is she okay, though?" he asked. "I mean…I haven't been a good friend. I should know this, and you have no clue how much it hurts that I have to ask you these questions."

"Man, Gris, you know Cath. She never admits how she is," Warrick said truthfully. "I don't want to try to say how she's feeling 'cause I honestly don't know."

"Fair enough," Grissom said again with a shrug, his eyes drifting toward the stairs. He wished that Catherine would come down already so they could talk.

Warrick saw Grissom glancing toward the steps, then said, "Grissom, I promise that you'll be the first person I tell her to call when she wakes up. Go home and get some sleep; you look almost as tired as Catherine did."

It was with some reluctance that Grissom finally wordlessly agreed. "Tell her…" he hesitated, looking at the man still sitting in front of her. "Tell her that I'm sorry, and I can't wait to talk to her," Grissom finally said.

"I will," Warrick promised, standing up to let Grissom out. "Thanks, Grissom, for the information."

"No problem, Warrick," Gil answered absently. He gave Warrick a long glance, then finally added, "Take care of her, would you?"

"Of course," Warrick replied. He shut the door gently behind Grissom, leaning his forehead against the wood.

"Is he gone?" Warrick about leapt out of his skin at Catherine's voice, and he whirled around, shocked to see her standing at the top of the steps.

"Jesus, Cath, you scared me!" She looked somewhat apologetic, though she simply stood there quietly in anticipation of his answer. "And yes, he's gone." Catherine nodded, running a hand though her tangled locks. "He's sorry."

"I know," she said simply. "I'm just not ready to talk to him at the moment." She descended down the steps carefully, not wanting to jar her sore back. Then, Catherine sat on the couch, drawing her legs underneath her. "What did he want?"

"He uh…" Warrick cleared his throat, taking the folder in his hands. "He's been doing some research."

"Research about what?" Catherine asked suspiciously.

"Kay Peterson."

At the reporter's name, Catherine scowled, yet she still reached out to take the folder from Warrick when he offered it to her. "What's that bitch up to now?" she asked, flipping the cover open.

"She's caused a lot of people to get fired, and she's apparently plagiarized at least one article, if not more," Warrick informed Catherine. Her eyes shot up, a disbelieving look on her features. "Peterson's apparently more trouble then she's worth."

Catherine's face still held the scowl, yet a frown now marred her features. She looked down at the papers. She read the first page quickly, speaking aloud every once and awhile. "Gina Helgen," she murmured, "Professor at LVU when Peterson wrote an article accusing her of having a sexual relationship with a student. Helgen repeatedly denied the allegations and left LVU when she was fired." She glanced up at Warrick. "How could they do that with no basis or evidence?"

"They can do whatever they want, I suppose," Warrick answered, suddenly regretting giving her the file. She was supposed to be resting and not straining herself, and he just knew that Catherine was going to throw herself into the research.

"Hey, Cath, why don't you put that down and we can look at it later?" Warrick asked. "Let me make you dinner."

"Mm, you go ahead," Catherine answered absently. "I'm not hungry."

He watched her intently, seeing that Catherine was engrossed in the file. He had seen that look before and knew that Catherine was long gone into what she was reading. With a sigh, he picked up her reading glasses from the end table and handed them to Catherine. "You may need these," Warrick told her softly.

"Thanks," Catherine said gratefully, accepting the glasses and smiling up at Warrick after he kissed the top of her head. She turned her attention immediately back to the file. He watched her carefully for a minute, and then went into the kitchen.

Half an hour later, Catherine had read each profile that Grissom had created twice, if not three times. Peterson's victims were spread out from California to Delaware, and even from Mexico to Canada. There were two that were deceased; one from heart failure and the other from an apparent suicide.

She took a deep breath, rolling her stiff neck and pulling off her glasses simultaneously. Kay Peterson was a nut, that was for sure, but Catherine had no idea what to do with the information that she now had. She could go to the Vegas Times office and confront Peterson, but she had a feeling she would never get close to Peterson, let alone in the building.

The smell of spaghetti sauce and garlic bread finally permeated her nostrils, and Catherine stood up slowly. "What the heck?" she uttered, momentarily forgetting the file and walking into the kitchen. "Warrick, you didn't have to do that!" Catherine was shocked to see Warrick standing over her oven, adding oregano to the sauce that was simmering on her stove.

"I know," Warrick said with a shrug. "I figured I'd make you dinner while you looked over the file. I'm sure you're hungry, and you need something in your stomach anyways. I know you haven't eaten in awhile."

Catherine's stomach rumbled on cue, and she smiled sheepishly when Warrick grinned. "I guess I'm a little hungry," she admitted.

"Why don't you set the table and I'll strain the spaghetti?" Warrick suggested, finding bowls for Catherine to put on the table. They were high up, and Warrick hadn't missed the cringe of pain that crossed Catherine's face whenever she attempted to lift her arms, no doubt a side effect of the wound on her back.

"Sounds good," Catherine agreed. Pretty soon, Warrick had dinner ready and they were eating the pasta.

"Warrick, this is amazing," Catherine finally spoke up some time later. "What did you put in the sauce?"

"It's a secret combination of spices that my grandmom used to put in sauce," Warrick replied with a sad smile. "I'd tell you, but I'd have to kill you."

Catherine smiled back across the table at Warrick, noticing that her stomach filled with butterflies at the mere thought of sharing such a domestic moment with Warrick. "Thank you," she finally said softly. "I needed this."

Warrick smiled back at Catherine. "What do you say we get this cleaned up and then we can take a nap for a few hours before I have to go to work?" he asked hopefully.

Catherine's thoughts drifted back to the file folder, and for a moment, she as tempted to tell him that she would join him later. However, his eyes were pleading and Catherine knew that she would get so engrossed that she would wind up staying for hours and not bother laying down with him.

Besides, he looked so darn cute that she wasn't about to make him beg for her.

"Sure, Rick," Catherine finally answered, feeling her heart leap with joy at the happiness that crossed Warrick's face. "I'd like that."

~/~

When Catherine forced her eyes open hours later, she saw that it was nearly four-thirty in the morning. Warrick had at least three and a half hours left on his shift before he came back.

And Catherine Willows was lonely. And bored. And pensive.

That wasn't a good combination.

She sighed, looking at the area across from her. It was so lonely without him. Pulling the pillow to her chest, she inhaled deeply. Catherine could already smell him on her pillows. She missed him so much that her heart ached. Catherine almost wished that she would have gone to work with him, but her back was hurting and she wasn't even sure yet if she would be going back to work.

At least, she hadn't been sure. However, when Catherine didn't show up for shift, the sheriff called her, asking her to come in for a meeting tomorrow at five in the evening to discuss her future with the crime lab.

If she hadn't been mistaken, there was a tone of urgency and desperation in his voice as he told Catherine in the voicemail that she was a great CSI and that he wanted her back.

_Whatever, _Catherine thought, _He probably just doesn't want me to sue the damn department._

She rolled to her back carefully, wincing a little as her back protested. Warrick had redressed it before he left, but it still hurt to move somewhat. Catherine stared at the ceiling, boredom overtaking her mind. She wasn't used to sleeping at this hour, so no wonder she was wide awake despite the fact she was still exhausted.

Her thoughts drifted to the file folder that Grissom had dropped off yesterday, and to the women profiled in the file. Catherine couldn't believe what she had read. There were so many women that had been targeted by Kay Peterson in one way or another. She wondered why, but the only reasoning she could come up with was that Peterson was in a position of control, and she didn't like women who fought back. She briefly wondered if the twenty-three women that she had written articles on had defied Peterson like Catherine had that night in the diner.

Either that, or Kay Peterson was just crazy.

Catherine sighed, kicking off the covers. Attempting to sleep was futile. Her mind was racing with thoughts, and her body refused to sleep. She placed her feet on the floor, stretching as far as her back allowed her to. She wiped sleep from her eyes, making her way to her office. She rarely worked at home, but there were times when the amount of paperwork she pulled in dictated it. Besides, her office made a nice little spot to do bills instead of the kitchen table.

She booted up her computer, opening the file folder that she had tossed on her desk a few hours before. Catherine rubbed her face as her background picture appeared and the computer slowly warmed up. Briefly, she wondered if she should make some coffee, but decided against it. Warrick would be home in just a few hours, and she knew that his arms around her would be enough to lull her back to sleep.

Stretching, Catherine opened her web browser and went to Google. She typed in Kay Peterson's name, frowning when the search results emitted tons of random web pages and articles. Apparently Kay Peterson was quite the popular name.

"I hope they aren't all bitches," Catherine muttered to herself, going back to the search bar and adding Vegas Times after Peterson's name.

There were far less results, but unfortunately for Catherine, all the links were for articles that Peterson had written, or for contact information. _I'd like to contact my fist right into her face,_ Catherine groused.

She glanced at the open file folder, looking at the top page. Gil had taken the time to write down information on each woman, including where they had worked, the nature of the article slandering them, and where they were employed at the moment. Some of the pages were even accompanied with a photograph, addresses, and phone numbers.

Gina Helgen's name and picture stared up at Catherine, and for a brief second, she couldn't help but think that the woman kind of looked like the CSI. She had wavy red hair and pale blue eyes. While there was a smile on Helgen's face, it didn't quite reach her eyes. She looked as if she held the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Catherine guessed that the picture was from the school's website where she now worked. The background had that 'school-picture' look. She breathed heavily through her nose, exhaling through her lips.

For some reason, she felt attached to this woman. While she felt for all of the women that Peterson had written articles on, she felt this connection to Gina Helgen. She glanced at the address for the school Helgen now worked at, seeing that it was in California. Absently, she went to MapQuest and quickly typed in the information to find directions to the school. She ignored the directions, however, and focused on the time between Vegas and the school.

_Four hours and fifty-nine minutes._

"Can't they just round it up to five hours?" Catherine asked out loud, drumming her nails against the desk. On auto-pilot, she reached for the phone on the desk, dialing the number for the school that was beneath the address.

She was surprised when a sleepy sounding voice answered the phone, but she masked her shock quickly. Realizing that there was probably a twenty-four hour phone system at the school, Catherine instinctively said, "Uh, yes, hello, my child is extremely ill, but he wants me to drop his term paper off to Gina Helgen. It's due today."

"You can leave it in her mailbox," the guy on the other line said, sounding bored.

"No, he wants me to hand it to her," Catherine quickly said. "Don't want it to get lost in transit, you know?" She forced a laugh, cringing when she heard a huff of air on the other line accompanied by keys tapping on a computer.

"Whatever, lady. She's in Room 234 of the Garcia Building. She has a class from eight AM until eleven AM today if you want to drop it off then."

"Thank you, sir," Catherine said gratefully. She heard the phone click in her ear, and for a brief moment, she wondered if she should call the young man back and give him a discussion about proper phone etiquette.

Deciding she didn't have time to do so, Catherine shut down her computer and went back to her room. Her mind was screaming that this was stupid, that she shouldn't be planning this. Still, as she tugged on jeans and a loose t-shirt, then slipped her feet into sandals she knew that she needed to make the trek to California in order to talk to Gina Helgen.

She grabbed a lightweight sweater, draping it over her arm as she made her way out of her room. This time of the year could be tricky in California, she knew, and Catherine didn't want to be freezing should it be chilly when she arrived.

Catherine felt a stab of pain in her chest as she passed Lindsey's room, knowing that the judge was going to make a decision based on his findings very soon in regards to sending Lindsey to the boot camp. Catherine knew it was for the best, but still, she missed Lindsey and wanted her home.

She hesitated, pushing the door to Lindsey's room open. She wasn't snooping; rather, she was looking for something. Seeing her daughter's cell phone on her dresser, still plugged in to charge from the other night, she grabbed it. The display lit up at the action, and Catherine raised her eyebrow when she saw that there were 132 new text messages awaiting reading.

_Good grief, _Catherine thought. She pressed the button to ignore them all and pocketed the phone. She had left hers at the lab the other morning, thinking that she wouldn't be needing it anymore. She now regretted that, as she wanted some sort of line should she run into trouble while driving out to California.

Making her way down the steps, Catherine went into the kitchen, finding a notepad. Thinking, she decided it was best to tell Warrick where she was so he didn't panic when he came back to her house. She scribbled a note as fast as she could, then held it out in front of her to read it.

_Warrick-_

_I know that I have to get in touch with the sheriff soon, but I just can't lay here and not do anything about the information I've learned about Kay Peterson. I called the number for the university that Gina Helgen works at in California, and she has a class there until eleven AM. I know that this is a stupid move, but I need to talk to her in order to get some sense of what is making Kay Peterson tick. It's a little after five AM, and if I leave now I should be able to make it there before the class ends._

_I hope that you had a good night at work, and I look forward to crawling into bed with you whenever I get back. If you need me, call Lindsey's cell phone. I'm taking that with me since I left mine at the lab yesterday. The number is 555-1013. _

_Take care, and I'll call you when I'm on my way home._

_-Catherine_

Deciding that was good enough, she placed the notepad on her counter and filled a water bottle up with cold water. She would stop for coffee at some point down the road, but for now, water would do. Grabbing her keys, Catherine carefully made her way to the door, pulling it behind her. She hopped into the rental car and punched in the address for Helgen's school into her GPS, waiting for the GPS to calculate a route. It beeped, signifying that the fastest route had been calculated. Without a second thought, Catherine put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway, her destination: California.

~/~

End 12/15


	13. Turn

Hola! Sorry this took me so long to get up, been busy the last few days.

Thanks to Chris (I will continue to threaten you, so get used to it!), lil Kass, Doube I 4 My Guyz, El Gringo Loco, YoblingDramoineLover, slegary, and Wileret for the reviews. Much appreciated! Thanks to Taylor for betaing for me as usual.

Please take a moment to let me know what you think!

~/~

Catherine wiped her eye as she glanced at the GPS, noticing with relief that she had about fifteen minutes left in her travel. She hated to admit it, but this little trip was probably one of the dumbest things that she had done. Her back was aching fiercely, and she longed to stretch her sore muscles.

Her gaze trailed to the clock. She had barely enough time to get to the college, find the Garcia building, and then find Gina Helgen. She had only stopped once to go to the bathroom and to hit the Starbucks at a rest area, but she had hit some heavy traffic once she crossed into California, setting her arrival time back to 10:48 as per her GPS.

Lindsey's phone rang, and Catherine glanced down at it, smiling slightly when she saw it was Warrick. She had a feeling this call would be coming eventually, as Warrick tended to work late. She knew that he had tried to call her at home when he had to work late and there was a message or two on her answering machine. When he arrived at her home, Catherine was willing to guess that he was worried and immediately called her.

Sighing, she pressed the button to go to voicemail. It pained her to do so, but she was close to the college, and Catherine didn't need any distractions once she got there.

Minutes later, Catherine pulled up to the campus of Eastern California University. It seemed to be a small campus, much to her relief. The buildings were clearly labeled, and it didn't take long for her to find the Garcia Building.

Surprisingly, there was parking close to the entrance, and a pang of worry ran through Catherine. She wondered whether Helgen was the type of teacher who let her students leave early, and she feared that she might have missed meeting with the teacher.

Catherine stretched her muscles as she got out of the Taurus, wincing at the pain in her back. It hurt worse then the night before, probably from the long drive. For a brief moment, she wondered how she was going to make it back to Las Vegas, but pushed that thought from her mind.

She made her way into the building, smiling at the desk clerk and acting as if she knew exactly where she was headed. Catherine made her way to the elevator, figuring that room 234 would be on the second floor. Sure enough, when the doors opened, she saw a sign pointing that rooms 218-236 were to the left.

Slowly, Catherine walked down the hall, suddenly doubting her sudden appearance at the college. What the hell was she going to say to Gina Helgen? Catherine could only imagine how she would react should some random woman from Las Vegas come and started poking into her not so pleasant past.

Before she lost her nerve, Catherine made her way to room 234. She peeked in the door, her breath catching when she saw Gina Helgen sitting at a desk in the front of the room, the classroom empty already. There were papers spread in front of her, yet the instructor was staring off into space. Catherine swallowed, tapping the doorframe lightly before she lost her nerve.

Helgen looked over to Catherine, doing a slight double take when she saw that the woman standing in the door had strikingly similar features to that of herself. For a brief moment, Catherine imagined Helgen having visions of a long-lost sister appearing at the school.

"Can I help you?" Helgen finally asked curiously, her eyes taking in Catherine's appearance. Catherine could only imagine what Helgen was seeing: a woman who was frail, leaning slightly with a hand placed against her back, and had bruises spread across her normally flawless face.

"Yeah, I, uh…" Catherine cleared her throat softly, trying to think of a reason for showing up at the college. One would think that with the long car drive she had taken, Catherine would have thought of a reason for suddenly appearing. However, her thoughts had been on everything else: Warrick, Gil, her job, Lindsey, strangling Kay Peterson…

"I'm Catherine Willows, I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab," Catherine eventually said. She wished that she had thought to try to cover her face with makeup, as she noticed Helgen's gaze seemed to be locked on her face. "Are you Gina Helgen?" she asked. Catherine knew that the woman was Gina, but she needed to confirm it.

Helgen's eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch at the mention of her former residence, and she laid her pen down. "Yes, I am," she answered after a slight beat. "Why – what can I help you with, Ms. Willows?"

"I…" Catherine trailed off, running a hand against her face. She hid the flinch when she brushed her broken skin. "I don't know how to say this, Ms. Helgen, without stirring up some bad memories," Catherine finally stated. "I'm here because I'm trying to find out information about Kay Peterson."

The scowl that covered Helgen's high cheekbones was akin to the one that crossed Catherine's face whenever she thought about the reporter. "I have nothing to say about that bitch," Helgen said angrily, gathering her papers quickly.

"Ms. Helgen-"

"Ms. Willows, I was on the fast track to becoming headmistress at LVU," Helgen interrupted her. "That was all taken away in a matter of days, and it's not something I like to think about. Don't expect me to be so open about it, especially to someone who is probably going to drag my name through the mud as well!"

Catherine desperately stepped into the room, trying to stop Gina Helgen from leaving. "Please, Ms. Helgen, don't leave. I'm not here to persecute you!" Catherine exclaimed.

"I find that had to believe," Helgen muttered under her breath, loud enough for Catherine to hear.

"Please, Ms. Helgen, trust me-"

"'Trust you?'" Helgen repeated. "Lady, I don't even know you!"

"Catherine Willows, age 46. CSI – blood spatter specialist. I'm an ex-stripper, ex-victim of abuse, ex-wife, and mother of one daughter who is going through her moody teenager years. I quit my job yesterday morning, though if you asked my boss, he'd say that he fired me. However, I think that his boss is going to rehire me tonight." Seeing that she had Helgen's interest, she continued, "I don't know if I want to go back, though, because one of my closest coworkers and I just admitted yesterday that we have an attraction to each other, and it's against lab policy for us to date. Kay Peterson ran an article about me two days ago saying that coworker and I were dating, and we're in a lot of trouble."

She stared at Helgen, unblinking. "That's my life, Ms. Helgen."

Helgen sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Gina Helgen, age 42. Former elementary school teacher, now English professor at the college here. I'm an ex-wife, as my husband ran off with the gardener…no kids, which was probably a good thing considering my divorce wasn't the friendliest. I was born and raised in Vegas, but I left town after Kay Peterson wrote a scathing article about me."

"How did you meet Kay Peterson?" Catherine asked softly, taking another step into the room.

"At a benefit to raise money for LVU," Helgen answered with a sigh. "Monday, August 23rd, 1999."

"What did you talk about at that first meeting?"

"We – uh…" Helgen ran her hand through her hair, glancing past Catherine and looking in the hall. "Look. Ms. Willows, I want to help you, but…"

"You're afraid that the wrong people will hear you talking?" Catherine finished for her gently.

Helgen nodded in response, unsure of how to continue. "Have you eaten today?" Helgen finally asked Catherine.

"No, I haven't," the CSI admitted.

"Why don't we grab some lunch and we can talk about Peterson then?" Helgen suggested. "There's a nice diner about five miles down the road that is usually pretty calm this time of day."

"That sounds great," Catherine agreed. "Would you like me to drive?"

"I can just meet you there," Helgen replied. "I don't want to put you out of the way."

"You wouldn't be, but that's okay. How do I get there?" Catherine questioned.

~/~

Twenty minutes later, Catherine was mixing her dressing into her salad as Gina picked the lettuce off her sandwich. The two had made very minimal talk as they looked over the menus and spoke to the waitress, and now that the food had arrived, there wasn't much to do except for talk.

Catherine waited for Gina to bring up the subject first, and finally, she spoke up. "Like I told you before, I met Kay Peterson at a benefit to raise money for LVU," Helgen began. "There had been several accusations at the time that students were sleeping with instructors in order to receive high grades in the class."

"Were any of the accusations true?" Catherine asked gently.

Helgen glanced sharply at Catherine, then snapped, "I never slept with a student if that's what you are asking."

"I wasn't talking about you, Ms. Helgen," Catherine replied calmly. "I was talking about the other members of your staff."

"I don't know, Ms. Willows," Helgen answered honestly. "I'm sorry; I just get a little defensive-"

"Understandable," Catherine said, raising her hand in understanding. "So as far as you know, those accusations were never proved right or wrong?"

"I don't know," Helgen confirmed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Catherine answered. "Do you know why Kay Peterson targeted you?" Seeing the confusion on Helgen's face, Catherine stated, "Peterson seemed to snap a little when I refused to do an interview with her after my father was murdered. A couple days after she and I had an altercation in a diner, she wrote an article about me having a romantic relationship with my coworker."

Helgen nodded in understanding, thinking back to the day so many years ago. "Now that I think about it, Peterson became upset when I wouldn't give her information about what was going on behind campus with all the accusations. I had been ordered not to speak to the press, and I was really distant with Peterson and refused to answer her questions," Helgen recalled. She looked at Catherine. "Do you think that she-"

"Did she say anything before she left?" Catherine interrupted the teacher. "Did she threaten you at all?"

"She said that she would make me pay," Helgen informed Catherine. "I- My God that's what she meant!" She glanced at Catherine, who held a neutral look on her face. "She knew that she was going to run an article about me!"

"More than likely, yes," Catherine answered, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want to put any thoughts into Helgen's mind that would set her off. "Peterson is a very spiteful woman."

Helgen stared at Catherine for a moment, then sighed. She slumped in her seat slightly as she played with the straw wrapper, her appetite long gone.

"I hate feeling like this."

Catherine pushed her lettuce around her bowl, not really hungry. "Feeling like what?" she asked Helgen gently when she didn't continue.

Helgen scratched her forehead slightly. "I just…ever since Kay Peterson ran that article eight years ago, I can never seem to be happy. I have these periods where I hate myself, and I wonder if it's even worth living. My boyfriend and I barely make ends meet, and I can't help but blame Kay Peterson for that. I was going to be the headmistress at the school, and that was all taken away."

She glanced at Catherine, seeing empathy in the CSI's eyes. "I really don't know what to do," Helgen finally concluded.

Catherine swallowed a bite of salad that she forced into her mouth, wiping her lips with a napkin. "I think that you need help, Ms. Helgen," Catherine finally said softly. Seeing her companion whip her head up with a sharp gaze, Catherine elaborated, "You're showing signs of depression."

Helgen wanted to argue with Catherine, yet she simply slumped further down in her chair. "I don't have depression," she muttered.

"Are you sleeping?" At Helgen's shake of her head, Catherine continued, "Do you feel as if it's you against the world at times? That things are never going to get better? Do you have trouble sleeping, a lack of appetite, find yourself drifting off into space?" Helgen looked at Catherine after a few moments, finally nodding. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," Catherine told her. "A lot of people go through it, and seeing what Kay Peterson did to you, it's understandable."

"I just don't understand: why me?" Helgen asked softly. "I never did anything to her. I was just doing what my bosses told me: to keep quiet."

"Believe me, Ms. Helgen, she will pay for what she did to you," Catherine said softly. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, determination set in her features. "I will make sure that Kay Peterson is held accountable."

Helgen sniffled slightly, fighting back her own tears. She finally picked up her sandwich, taking a tiny bite. She chewed slowly and swallowed, dabbing at her lips with a napkin before speaking.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Ms. Willows."

~/~

Catherine crossed into Nevada after a couple of hours, pulling out her daughter's cell phone and dialing Warrick's number from memory.

He answered the phone sleepily, and Catherine said softly, "I think that I'm going to be late for that meeting with the sheriff."

"Cath, where are you?" Warrick asked, sounding more alert when he realized it was her on the phone. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Catherine replied. "My back hurts and needs the dressing changed, though."

"Well, come on home and I'll do it for you," he answered.

Catherine smiled slightly, imaging Warrick stretched out on her bed, sleeping soundly as he awaited for her. "I can't," she finally said. "I just crossed into Nevada and I need to get to the lab as soon as possible for my little meeting."

"Is the sheriff pissed?"

"No, he didn't seem it. He just sounded kind of desperate. I think he's afraid that I'll sue for wrongful termination or something."

Warrick chuckled slightly. "Will you come home then?"

"I don't know," Catherine admitted. "I want to try to see if I can talk to a judge about Lindsey, and then I want to try to find where Lillian Danielson is and make her plead out. Once I have those two issues taken care of, I'm going to see Kay Peterson again."

"Cath, no-"

"Warrick, I'm not going to beat her up and get arrested or anything," Catherine cut him off with a laugh before he could protest. "Besides, I'm bringing back up this time."

"Back up?" Warrick repeated warily.

"I've already called Jim and told him that I'm taking him hostage at some point tonight and we're going to have a little chat with Peterson," Catherine told him.

"I'm sure that Peterson has a life, Catherine. How are you going to get her to meet with you?"

Catherine smiled to herself, answering, "Let's just say that an anonymous tipster is going to tip off to Peterson and all the local news stations that a wanted criminal is hiding near an abandoned warehouse. When they get there – cameras and microphones in hand – I'll just happen to be there to confront Peterson."

Warrick laughed slightly, and Catherine could picture him shaking his head. "That's a dirty tactic, Catherine," he told her. "I kinda like it."

"Yeah, well, you have to fight dirty sometimes," Catherine answered. Seeing brake lights ahead of her, Catherine sighed. "Look, Rick, I'm getting ready to hit some heavy traffic and I need to concentrate on the road," she told him.

"Call me after you talk to the sheriff, okay?" Warrick requested.

"Of course," Catherine said. "I probably am going to take leave for a little while in order to get things straight with Lindsey and to let my back heal, but you can guarantee that I will be back to CSI within a week."

"Okay, babe," Warrick answered. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Bye, Rick."

Catherine hung up, hitting her brakes. The next hour was spent in a slow crawl as she slowly made her way to the crime lab. Five o'clock rolled around and Catherine still was two hours away.

_Good, let them sweat, _Catherine thought to herself. She knew that they knew that her cell phone had been left in the locker room, and no one knew that she had Lindsey's phone. Well, Gil might think to call her daughter's phone, but he currently was off, so Catherine doubted she would see Gil's number pop up on the screen.

Her back was screaming in agony by the time she pulled up at the lab two and a half hours later. Catherine knew that her bandage should be addressed soon, but she simply made her way to the sheriff's office, smirking to herself when she saw the irritated look that Ecklie was giving her from the doorway he was standing in, talking to one of the lab technicians.

She rapped on the door, and the sheriff looked up. "Catherine, come in," he called, his voice a little too eager. "How are you? How's your back? Have a seat."

He spoke quickly, and Catherine smirked to herself for the second time in minutes, knowing that the sheriff had been preparing for this moment all day. She knew that he had rehearsed his words over and over, waiting for Catherine to walk through the door.

"I'd rather stand," Catherine replied, making sure to add a curt tone to her voice. "Why did you want this meeting?" She felt a wave of satisfaction roll over her as the sheriff visibly flinched at her ignoring his lack of hospitality. Catherine made a move to cross her arms, a wave of pain shooting through her back at the movement. Instead, she placed a hand on her hip.

"Catherine…" the sheriff chuckled nervously. "This is all a huge misunderstanding."

"What's there to misunderstand?" she challenged. "Ecklie fired me."

"Yeah, well, Ecklie's an idiot." The words slipped from the sheriff's mouth before he could stop them. Catherine wanted to laugh, but she simply raised an eyebrow in response. The sheriff continued, "Catherine, you are an excellent CSI, and there's no way that you are leaving this lab today without a job unless it's under your own accord."

Catherine ran a hand through her hair. "I'm hurt, Sheriff, and I can't work for a few more days," she told him. "Not only that, but I'm dealing with a personal problem-"

"That's fine. Grissom informed me of your medical and personal problems, and I'm willing to allow you to come back whenever you're ready," the sheriff interrupted her gently. "As for the personal problem, take your time."

Catherine nodded her head slowly. "I appreciate that," she finally said softly. "If I may ask, what exactly did Grissom tell you about my medical and personal problems?"

"He told me that you fell and hurt your back, and that you are having some problems dealing with Sam's finances since he passed away," the sheriff said. "Add to that the well-publicized issues with Kay Peterson, and I'm sure you have enough stress to account for the entire lab."

Catherine nodded slowly, realizing that Grissom had lied for her. "What reason did Ecklie give you for firing me?" she couldn't help but ask as the sheriff's phone rang.

"He didn't have a reason, believe it or not. All he would say was that he made a mistake and that he was stressed out," the sheriff replied. He glanced at his ringing phone, then back to Catherine.

"Go ahead and answer it," Catherine said with a wave of her hand. "We'll finish this conversation later."

"Thank you," he replied gratefully. "Let me know when you will be back to work."

"I will." With that, Catherine turned and walked out of the office. She slowly made her way to her office to check her email briefly and to call Warrick. She pulled out Lindsey's cell phone, flipping it open.

"That's a nice cell phone, but I never saw you for being the type who would have a hot pink one."

Grissom's voice broke Catherine out of her thoughts, and she instinctively slowed when she saw him leaning against the door near her office.

"Yeah, well, I needed something to get me by since I thought I was fired," Catherine answered with a shrug, picking her pace back up until she was a foot away from him. "I left mine here."

"You mean this?" Grissom asked, holding her cell phone out in his palm.

Catherine looked at it, gratefully taking it. "Didn't think I needed it anymore since Ecklie fired me," she admitted.

"Did you talk to the sheriff?" he asked.

"Yeah," Catherine answered. "I'm supposed to call him and let him know when I can start back here." She looked over Grissom's tired features, then said, "He doesn't know about Lindsey."

It was more of a statement then a question, and Grissom nodded in conformation. "There's no record of Lindsey ever being arrested, and as far as we're concerned, she was never here," Grissom told Catherine.

"What the…" Catherine trailed off, her confusion evident in her features. "Grissom, how can that be possible?"

"We brought her in at night, and there was no one in the halls, so no one saw Lindsey arriving in handcuffs. Add to that, Brass seems to have either lost or forgot to file the paperwork," Grissom informed Catherine.

"What about the boot camp?"

"Lindsey went there last night," Grissom told her gently. Seeing hurt flash in Catherine's eyes, he defended himself before she could lash out at him. "It was her choice. She knew that if she would have faced you, then it would have been harder to leave."

Catherine nodded slowly. "I can understand that, I suppose. How long will she be gone?"

"A month," Gil replied.

"God, that's so long," Catherine said with a shake of her head. She glanced at Gil's tired features, then added, "You lied to the sheriff for me."

"I did."

"Why?"

"Because we all have times where we have personal issues," Gil told her. "It's just not really anyone's business. The sheriff didn't need to know about your problems with Lindsey."

"You can get in a lot of trouble for lying for me, and you know it."

"I won't get in trouble."

"What about Ecklie?"

"What about him?"

"I know that he knows about Lindsey," Catherine said. "Plus he's the one who fired me in the first place. What's to stop him from telling the sheriff you lied?"

Grissom finally allowed a small smile to cross his features. "I've got Conrad hook, line, and sinker," he told Catherine.

"Not too many people can say that, I suppose," Catherine answered with a sigh. "How so?"

"I know that Warrick passed the file on to you with the information about the women that Kay Peterson wrote articles about," Grissom said, waiting for Catherine to confirm with a nod. "Well, many years ago, there was a coroner who worked here who was also working on a book. Let's just say that the disk with all that information vanished after Kay Peterson visited, and an article very similar to his works was posted in the Vegas Times."

Catherine breathed through her nose, exhaling slowly. "Warrick mentioned something about Kay Peterson plagiarizing works. How can you be sure that she did it?"

"The doctor constantly printed out his works in case something happened to the disk. When he tried to publish the works a few years later, the publishing company refused to do so because they thought he had plagiarized Kay Peterson," Grissom explained. "He could never figure out why they would say that, and in doing research about Peterson's slanderous articles, I came across that article. I knew the works sounded familiar, and when the doctor passed, he gave me the manuscript."

"Wow," Catherine blinked slowly. "Where does Ecklie fall into this?"

"Our dear friend was working at the lab that day, and provided a distraction that left Peterson alone in the morgue near my friend's belongings for several minutes," Grissom replied. "He accidentally let it slip yesterday that he helped Peterson get that disk."

"You've got to be kidding me! Why?"

"Apparently Kay Peterson seduced him and they had a brief affair," Grissom shrugged. "He begged her not to go public with the information, and the only way she agreed was if Conrad would help Peterson get the disk. She had heard that the coroner had been writing up very important conclusions, and she wanted to do it first. I'm just shocked that she got away with it for so long."

"Me too," Catherine agreed. She looked over Grissom, then asked, "Gil, how can I ever thank you?"

"Forgive me."

"What?!"

Grissom looked at her sadly. "I've been a terrible friend and boss these last few days," Grissom replied softly. "You've needed my friendship and support and all I did was yell at you for being mean to a murder suspect."

"You were just doing your-"

"Yeah, I know," he interrupted. "I just hate doing it sometimes."

Catherine stared at him for a long time before finally nodding at him. "It's okay, Gil," she told him softly. "We all make mistakes and I hope that you can forgive me for mine."

"I do," Grissom agreed. "How about you go home and get some rest?"

"Nah, I'm fine," Catherine replied, and it was true. She felt revitalized and ready to take on the world.

"What about your back?"

"It's there," Catherine answered with a small smile. "I have some things to take care of here."

"What's that?"

Catherine raised an eyebrow at her boss – friend – and smiled. "Are you sure you want to know?" she teased.

Grissom simply groaned, shaking his head. "With that look, I'm pretty sure not!" he answered.

~/~

End 13/15


	14. Tussle

Sorry it took so long for me to get this out. It's tough working two jobs and I feel like I'm home only to sleep and shower. On another note, it's nice to see the new CSI season up and running and on fire. Loved the Catherine scenes and can't wait to see how they work this season!

Thanks to Chris (I'm too tired for witty comments…), YoblingDramoineLover, Wileret, Double I 4 My Guyz, slegary, name-me, AutumnDoe, and connielover for the awesome reviews. Thanks also to Taylor for betaing.

Enjoy thisl I can't believe there's only one to go! =( Please read and review! Love you all!

~/~

"What the hell is she doing here? I don't want to see her!"

Catherine didn't expect a cheerful welcome from Lillian Danielson, so at the teenager's annoyed question, Catherine merely followed the district attorney into the room.

"Yeah, well, sorry, you have to see me again," Catherine replied to Lillian, shrugging her shoulders.

"I don't want to talk to her!" Lillian exclaimed to her lawyer. "Get her-"

"I'm not here to start anything," Catherine interrupted Lillian before she could get a full rant going. "We're here to offer you a deal."

"A deal?" Lillian scoffed. "I didn't kill my mother!"

"You sure about that?" Catherine shot back.

"Catherine," the district attorney spoke lowly, placing a warning hand on Catherine's elbow. "Relax." Catherine nodded slowly at the woman, a tall, blonde woman named Susan Smith. Susan was fairly new to the game, but her pale brown eyes held a no-nonsense gaze that could pierce even the toughest criminals. She had a spotless conviction record so far, and Catherine couldn't help but think that probably would have many more convictions in her career.

At Catherine's silent agreement to relax, Susan turned her attention to the teenager staring her down. "Now, Lillian-"

"I didn't murder my mother."

Catherine resisted rolling her eyes, knowing that it wouldn't be worth it to argue with the teenager. She wanted nothing more than to get this meeting over with so that she could sign off the paperwork and forget about Lillian Danielson.

Susan's voice broke Catherine out of her thoughts, and the CSI watched closely as Lillian's gaze faltered when she saw the photographs of her shirt, then of the piece that was found in her mother's grasp. Panicked, Lillian looked at her lawyer with wide eyes.

"I – that – that's not mine!" Lillian sputtered, her eyes dilated. "It wasn't-"

Susan merely spoke over her. "Add to this that your neighbor saw you come home within the time period that your mother was murdered, and I think that we'll have a slam dunk conviction. Life in prison, Ms. Danielson. That doesn't sound too good, does it?"

"I didn't kill my mother!"

"Lillian, stop talking!" her lawyer said, nervousness flaring on his face for the first time. He glanced at Susan and Catherine, who were staring back evenly.

"What are you offering?"

The question hung in the air for several long moments. "Fifteen years without the chance of parole," Susan finally said.

"What?" Lillian snapped. "I didn't do anything!"

"Lillian, _enough_!" her lawyer said loudly. Meeting the teenager's gaze for a long moment, he turned back to Susan. "Ten years and psychiatric care."

"I don't need psych-"

"Thirteen years and psychiatric care," Susan interrupted Lillian.

The lawyer stared at Susan for a long moment, and then looked at Lillian. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, and finally, after a long moment, Lillian nodded. There was a scowl on her face as she glared at Catherine, whispering in her lawyer's ear for another moment. Catherine merely stared back, her gaze even.

"We'll take it," the lawyer replied softly. "Under one condition."

"What's that?" Susan asked warily, prepared to do battle again.

"That CSI Willows has no contact with my client."

Catherine's eyebrows shot up at request, yet she stayed calm as she spoke up before Susan could. "Your request is unnecessary. Once I get a conviction I have nothing to do with the felon," she informed Lillian and the lawyer. "However, I will respect your 'condition' and will not have contact with Ms. Danielson or her family."

Lillian and her lawyer exchanged a glance, and finally he turned to Susan. "That's fine. Draw up the appropriate paperwork and myself, Lillian, and her guardian will sign them," the lawyer said.

"The papers will be on your desk tomorrow at nine A.M.," Susan said. She stood up, Catherine following her motion as they made their way to the door.

Lillian's voice stopped Catherine cold in her tracks when the teenager spoke up. "You know, Ms. Willows, the prison walls are pretty thin, and from what I heard, your daughter has been in prison," Lillian said casually.

Catherine's back stiffened at Lillian's words, and she turned slowly. "Someone's lying to you," she said evenly. "My daughter's away at camp."

"In the middle of the school year?" Lillian challenged.

Catherine swallowed, working to control her temper. "It's something that has to do with school," she finally replied, realizing how lame that probably sounded.

Lillian smirked, taking pride at the fact that she was getting under Catherine's skin. "What happened to your face? Looks like you got fu-"

Susan laid a hand on Catherine's hand, encircling her fingers around her wrist. "Catherine, let's go," Susan whispered urgently as she cut off Lillian's statement. "She's not worth it."

Catherine glared back at the teenager, who seemed to be staring back with a satisfied look in her eyes. "You're right," she finally said to Susan. "I'm done with this case."

Susan kept her hand around Catherine's wrist as she pulled the CSI from the room. She was particularly glad she did so when she heard Lillian's parting words.

"I'll see you in thirteen years, Ms. Willows."

Susan effectively slammed the door before Catherine could react, and the CSI breathed in heavily. She placed her hands on her knees, working to regain some control of her shallow breathing. When Catherine straightened up, Susan was staring her down with that unnerving gaze of hers.

"Something you want to tell me, Catherine?" Susan asked calmly. Seeing Catherine's blank stare, she elaborated, "About your daughter?"

"There's nothing to tell," Catherine replied evenly.

"Was there any basis to what Lillian Danielson said?" Susan pressed.

"Lindsey's never been arrested," Catherine answered. "You can check her record."

Susan raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "What did happen to your face, Catherine?" she asked.

"I fell," Catherine said simply. "Hit my face on the end table."

The district attorney held Catherine's gaze for a long moment, then shook her head. "I just don't want any surprises when Lillian goes to sign those papers," Susan explained.

"Well, there won't be any," Catherine replied confidently. She trusted that Gil and Jim would take care of the issue, and as best as she knew, they had.

"Good," Susan finally answered.

The two women stood there tensely as Brass walked up. "Hey, Catherine, Susan," he greeted the women. "How are you this evening?"

"Fine," the two women answered at once, though their icy tones indicated to the Captain that there was a lot of tension in the room.

Jim swallowed slightly, rubbing a hand over his tired face. "That's, uh, that's good," he finally replied, glancing at his watch. "I just got a call, Cath, about a body that was found in an abandoned warehouse. You want to come with me?"

Catherine didn't look at Susan, knowing that the district attorney would be searching her face for any sign of weakness. "Sure, Jim," she agreed. "Just let me grab my kit."

"Okay," Brass agreed. With a small nod to Susan, he turned and left the room, leaving Catherine and the district attorney.

The two shared a wary look before Catherine finally asked, "You'll get those papers to me to sign at some point tomorrow, correct?"

"Yes," Susan answered stiffly. "Have a good night, Catherine."

Catherine nodded back before making her way out of the building to Jim's car. He watched her approach, worry evident on his face at her slow pace.

"You okay?" he couldn't help but ask.

"I'll live," Catherine shrugged, walking over to the passenger's door with a hand on her back. "Just promise me some pain meds to knock me out when we're done with Peterson?"

Brass looked at Catherine critically, wonder for a brief moment whether this was smart. Seeing the fire in the strawberry blond's blue eyes, though, he finally nodded. "Sure, Cath. Let's rock and roll," he told her.

~/~

When Catherine and Jim pulled up at the abandoned warehouse, they were met by a small group of annoyed reporters. Much to Catherine's relief – and annoyance – Kay Peterson was in the front of the pack.

"What the hell is going on here?" Peterson demanded, stepping up as close to Catherine as she dared. A small ripple of satisfaction crossed Kay's face when she saw the bruising on Catherine's face. Catherine felt her blood pressure rising when she realized that Kay thought that her slap had done the damage to Catherine's face.

"Why are we out here, man?" a camera man within the crowd spoke up. "There's no damn killer hiding out here!"

"Killer?" a woman near the front asked. "I thought he was a rapist!"

Voices mingled together angrily before Brass finally spoke up. "I'm sorry, folks, that you were duped into coming here, but there's something that we'd like you to get on tape, if possible," he said.

"What, you want us to do your scut work?" a heavy New York accent scoffed.

"Can't you people do your own damn work?" a female voice asked, and soon after that, everyone was murmuring their agreement.

"Yeah, well, something like that, but it's to catch a plagiarizer!" Brass spoke up above the voices.

"Plagiarizer?" someone repeated. "I hate them. Some bitch at the Times plagiarized my work but I could never prove it. I never got a promotion there thanks to that damn article."

"Me too," another voice chimed in.

Catherine glanced at Kay Peterson, noticing for the first time since she met her that Peterson seemed to have a wary look on her face. She actually looked nervous as the reporters talked amongst themselves. Peterson caught Catherine's glance, and the reporter merely sneered at the CSI.

"What's ridiculous," Peterson spoke up loudly, causing the group to look at her, "Is that we were all dragged out here on false prefixes thanks to someone who thinks that I got her in trouble." Catherine merely raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she looked at Peterson. "Yeah, that's right, I'm talking about you!" Peterson said when she saw the dubious look on Catherine's face. "I know that you dragged us out here as a twisted plot to get revenge on me because of that article I wrote. Well, trust me, I have my sources and I know that you are having an affair with Warrick Brown!"

"Are you done?"

Catherine's calm question was enough to stop Peterson's rant cold. The reporter looked at her with huge eyes, fear creeping into the green pools.

"No, I'm not done!" Peterson finally stammered. Seeing the crowd of reporters looking at her funny, she continued, "That woman is a liar! Don't believe a word she says!"

"And they should believe you?" Catherine asked, her tone even. "Maybe I should ask Gina Helgen to believe you. Or perhaps Dr. James Hall would have something to say?"

"Who are Gina Helgen and James Hall?" the man with the heavy New York accent asked. The rest of the crowd nodded in agreement to his question, looking at Catherine for a response.

"Nobody-" Peterson began, only to stop speaking when Catherine spoke above her.

"Gina Helgen is a former LVU teacher who was run out of town after Kay Peterson wrote an article accusing her of having an affair with a student," Catherine said. "Dr. James Hall was a coroner who had his work stolen by Kay Peterson."

Peterson glared at Catherine, fury in her eyes as the CSI spoke. "You can't prove that," Peterson hissed lowly at Catherine. Raising her voice, she continued, "Haven't you ever heard of slander? I could sue you so fast-"

"Have _you_ ever heard of slander?"

"Of course I have," Peterson snapped.

"Then you know that I could sue _you _right back," Catherine answered. She felt somewhat relieved that the dozens of reporters who were standing behind her, knowing that the camera men were now recording the confrontation. She was calm and cool while Peterson was quickly becoming flustered. "I have dozens of colleagues and friends who are willing to testify that Warrick Brown and I were not in a romantic relationship when you wrote that article, including my supervisor and his boss."

"How convenient," Peterson snarled.

"It's not a convenience if it's the truth," Catherine shrugged.

"Whatever, I'm out of here," Peterson finally said. She glared at the group of reporters that were standing there, all of them looking at their fellow reporter dubiously. "Please, don't tell me that you appreciate being called out here in the middle of the night!"

The crowd was silent, and Peterson shook her head. "You people are idiots!"

"Do you have an alias of Dana Fox?" The voice caused Peterson to falter, and she turned around to try to meet the voice.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Peterson scoffed.

"Four years ago, I was working on an article for the Times that would have made my career," a young reporter spoke bravely, stepping out from behind a cameraman. "My manuscript went missing from my desk when I went out for lunch, and the next day, an article that was nearly word for word of what I wrote appeared in the paper."

"Oh, get out of here," Peterson said angrily, relishing when the shy young woman blanched. "She's lying, people. I don't have any aliases!"

"Then who is Marie Williamson?" another voice spoke up bravely.

Peterson rolled her eyes, hitching her purse up on her shoulder. "Oh for God's sake, I'm out of here!" she said, moving to walk away.

Catherine stepped in front of Peterson, effectively blocking her path. She knew that she would regret the move if Peterson were to become violent again, but at the moment she didn't care. All Catherine cared about was trapping Peterson like the rat she was.

"Unless you want me to slug you again, I suggest that you move!" Peterson hissed at Catherine.

"This time, I hit back," Catherine warned lowly. "And with as pissed as these people are at you, I'm sure that everyone will back me in saying that it was self defense."

It was a thinly veiled threat, as Catherine knew that her back wasn't up to taking on Kay Peterson in a fist fight. However, at the slight cringe that Peterson offered at Catherine's words, the strawberry blond crossed her arms. "So answer the woman's question. Do you have an alias of Marie Williamson?"

Peterson glared at Catherine, then hissed, "Yes."

"What about Dana Fox?"

"Yes."

"Did you steal the works of Dr. Hall or this young reporter over here?"

"I wouldn't call it stealing-"

"You blatantly stole their work with the intent to publish it as your own. That's plagiarism."

Peterson sighed, running a hand over her face. "Yes."

"Did you print false articles about me, Gina Helgen, and twenty-two other women?" Catherine asked calmly, though on the inside she was shaking with anger.

Peterson looked as if she was about to lie, but seeing a camera pointed out her, she sighed out her answer. "Yes."

"Why?"

"I…I honestly don't know," Peterson admitted miserably, her shoulders drooping slightly. She sniffled, looking up at Catherine. "Are you going to ruin my career now?"

Catherine frowned, her eyes darkening as Peterson's words washed over her. _Was she going to ruin Peterson's career?_ Catherine pondered.

"No."

The word shocked Catherine as much as it did Peterson, and the reporter frowned in confusion. She stared at Catherine for a long moment, then asked, "Why?"

"I…don't know," Catherine replied. "Don't think that I'm letting you off the hook, though."

"What do you mean?" Peterson asked nervously.

"I will have all these reporters not show their footage on air or print anything in a magazine, as long as you write an article admitting that you lied in the articles about me and the other women, and admit that you have plagiarized in the past," Catherine stated calmly.

Peterson glowered at her. "You've got to be kidding me! That will ruin my career just as much, if not more!"

"I'm not so sure about that," Catherine answered with a raised eyebrow. "Admitting your mistakes is much better then having the media exploiting them."

Peterson nodded, running a hand through her hair. She glanced at the angered reporters gathered behind Catherine like an army, and she sighed. "Your article will be printed in tomorrow's paper," Peterson said grudgingly.

"And you're not to harass me, my family, my colleagues, any of the reporters here tonight, or any of the women that you mention in the article, or else this footage _will _be aired," Catherine finished.

"Fine," Peterson grumbled, her face red with embarrassment. "I'm out of here."

"Good," Catherine answered, smirking at Peterson's figure slinking away. She turned back to the crowd of reporters, glad that Jim had her back. "I'd like to thank all of you for coming out here tonight," she finally said to the group. "I'm sorry that you were duped-"

"Duped?" Heavy New York Accent, as Catherine was thinking of him as, cut her off. "That was the best stuff I've seen in awhile! It's about time that bitch got hers!"

Catherine merely smiled weakly, glancing desperately at Jim. The adrenaline was wearing off, and she wanted to just lay down in her nice warm bed. "Let's get out of here, Cath," Brass said softly, leading her by the elbow to the squad car.

Catherine merely nodded, giving one last glance of appreciation to the dispersing crowd behind her.

~/~

Catherine tiredly made her way into her house, exhaustion of the last few weeks finally catching up to her. Now that Kay Peterson and Lillian Danielson, not to mention her issues with Lindsey, had been taken care of, she felt like she could sleep for a year.

She tossed her keys on the counter, stifling a yawn as she did so. Catherine was surprised that she was so tired, as she was usually headed to work at this time, not getting ready to crawl in the bed and pass out.

The light in the hallway was on, giving Catherine enough light to make her way through the kitchen. She was used to ambling in the dark, but as she got older, Catherine noticed her vision faltered at times and there were shadows present. She smiled to herself, thinking of how she used to be able to dance in the dark without a problem mere years-

Catherine squeaked as she felt a pair of arms encircle her waist, and she stiffened, her elbow swinging back to get whoever grabbed her around the waist to let go.

"Whoa, whoa, Cath!" Warrick whispered in her ear. "It's just me, calm down!"

She relaxed, but nevertheless shimmied so she was facing him. His arms remained around her waist, and she couldn't help but notice – and like – how close Warrick's face was to hers.

"Make a little noise next time, would you?" Catherine scolded gently. "You scared the daylights out of me!"

Warrick smiled down at her, tightening his grasp around her waist slightly. Catherine wrapped her arms around his neck, savoring the hug. She breathed in his scent happily.

"What are you doing here?" Catherine asked, closing her eyes.

"I missed you so much that I couldn't bear being away from you much longer," Warrick answered. "I took a personal day."

Catherine chuckled lightly, instinctively kissing Warrick on the cheek. "I missed you, too," she told him.

"How was your day?" Warrick asked.

"It was okay…pretty decent, actually," Catherine admitted. "I got Lillian Danielson to take a plea and trapped Kay Peterson like the rat she is, and now I'm in the arms of a very handsome man."

Warrick laughed, and Catherine's heart fluttered as she felt the sound rumble against her chest. They swayed in silence for several long moments before he finally sighed softly, prompting Catherine to open her eyes and look at him inquisitively.

"I could get used to this, Cath," Warrick quietly admitted.

"Me too, Rick," Catherine replied.

She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it slowly. "What?" Warrick prompted her gently.

"I just…this is so perfect. I don't want to think of the lab, because the Kay Peterson thing will be taken care of come tomorrow, but we can't lie," Catherine chose her words carefully. "I don't want to hide our…" she trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"Our what?" Warrick prodded her.

"Our attraction to each other," Catherine finally finished. "I want to say relationship, but we haven't even gone on a date-"

"Then let's change that."

Catherine raised an eyebrow at him, smiling slightly. "Right now?"

"Right now," Warrick confirmed. "This is Vegas, baby. The city never stops running. Let me take you to some movie theater and dinner-"

"Rick, honey, that sounds great, but you're missing the point," Catherine interrupted gently, placing a finger over his lips. "It doesn't really matter when we establish our relationship; we can still get in trouble at the lab because two members on the same shift aren't allowed to date each other."

Warrick nodded slowly, finally letting go of Catherine. Her body ached slightly, and she wanted nothing more then to be close to him again.

"What should we do, then?" Warrick asked, taking her hand in his.

Catherine shrugged slightly. "I don't know, Warrick," she answered. "We can either hide our relationship, which I don't want to do, or…" she trailed off, looking to Warrick as she struggled to find the right words.

"What, Cath?" he asked softly, his green eyes filled with passion.

"Or we admit to the sheriff everything, and one of us transfers," Catherine replied. Seeing the displeased look on Warrick's face, she sighed. "It's not my ideal choice, and I don't want to split up the team, but…" She let the words fade as she looked up to Warrick, her blue eyes wide with unshed tears.

"But what, honey?" Warrick asked gently, cupping her face in his hands.

"I don't want to lose you," Catherine finally finished. "I finally got you, and I never want to let go."

Warrick stared into Catherine's eyes for a long time before he finally dropped his hands to her shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You're not going to lose me, Catherine, even if the entire Las Vegas Police Force were to try to break us apart," he said softly.

Catherine smiled, closing her eyes in an attempt to regain her bearings. "You have no clue how glad I am to hear you say that, Rick," she managed.

"I know," Warrick answered, kissing her forehead one more time.

Catherine sighed contentedly, but she couldn't help the cringe that crossed her face as her back ached.

"What's wrong?" Warrick asked, his voice filled with concern.

"Back hurts," Catherine replied simply.

"Have you changed the bandage lately?" he questioned her.

"No," Catherine answered sheepishly. Seeing Warrick's disapproving look, she defended herself. "What, I couldn't reach back there and I wasn't about to ask Jim to change it!"

"Honey, you have to be careful," Warrick gently chastised her. "I don't want it to get infected."

"That makes two of us," Catherine replied with a small smile.

"Come on, let me take care of the bandage, and then maybe I'll even give you a back massage," Warrick suggested, taking her hand in his.

"Oh, that sounds great," Catherine agreed immediately. "Thank you."

Warrick smiled down at Catherine, instinctively pressing his lips to hers gently. When they parted, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leading her to the steps.

"Come on, let's get you all fixed up."

~/~

End 14/15


	15. Tomorrow

Hey guys…welcome to chapter 15, and the final installment of Trials. I usually get really sad about ending a story, but I can honestly say that I'm not sad to see this one end. I wrote a piece of fiction that I am extremely proud of, and I don't say that often, as I am my own worst critic.

Thank you SOOOOOO much to everyone who has taken the time to review/PM me/add me to their alerts and favorites over the past few months. It means so much to me as a writer. Thanks to Chris, connieLover, slegary, El Gringo Loco, YoblingDramoineLover, csiaddict2, and DoubleI4MyGuyz for your wonderful reviews the last chapter. I appreciate all comments, so don't hesitate to review.

A special thank you goes out to Taylor, who so carefully beta'd most of the chapters of this piece for me. You're an excellent writer and I appreciate all of your support, comments, encouragement, and honesty. Thank you also to Chris for all of your support and encouragement. Thank you to all my readers as well for sticking it out with me. I know that there's been a few points where there's been a lengthy delay, and I apologize for that. I work 2 jobs and average maybe 5 hours of sleep a night, and unfortunately this kinda slipped my mind a few times. But thanks for the encouragement and for asking me when it would be done!!!!

At the moment, I just have my one shot to post, which I'll do once I get it beta'd. I really like that story, and I hope that you guys keep an eye out for it. Other than that, unfortunately my time is limited, so I'm not sure when anything else will come out from me. However, csiaddict2's werewolf challenge is very interesting, so I may have to take a stab (bite?) at it. And who knows what will creep into my little mind? lol

Thanks for reading, enjoy, don't forget to review, and for you baseball fans, GOOOOOO PHILLIES!!!!!!!!!!!!

~/~

_*One Month Later*_

Catherine made her way into her kitchen, smiling at the sight before her. Warrick was busy making dinner, concentrating on putting the right ingredients into the mix he was making for the chicken he was cooking.

"Hey, babe," Catherine finally said softly, breaking Warrick's concentration.

He looked over, a smile spreading on his face as his girlfriend stood there. Her messenger bag was slung casually over her shoulder, and her hair was slightly tussled. She looked somewhat tired after undoubtedly a long day, yet still undeniably sexy.

"Hey, gorgeous," Warrick finally answered, wiping his hands on his pants as he crossed the few steps to stand in front of Catherine. He wrapped an arm around her waist, kissing her deeply. "How was work?" he asked once they parted.

"Okay," Catherine answered with a shrug. "It was a long day; I have lots of paperwork that I didn't have a chance to catch up on. I brought some home with me in case I get a chance to look."

Warrick nodded, taking her bag and setting it down by her chair. "Catch any cases?" he asked.

As Catherine pondered his question, she couldn't help but think of the past month and how natural it felt. With some help from Grissom, she had been transferred to day shift and promoted to supervisor. The move was done for two reasons: so that Catherine and Warrick could begin their relationship without backlash from the media – namely Kay Peterson – or the higher ups of the lab.

It had been smooth sailing so far. Catherine missed everyone on the team, but the fact that she now had her man was some solace. And besides, it wasn't as if Catherine never saw anyone from the lab anymore. When she was coming in, many of them were still working on cases, and she had been called in early a few times in order to back up grave. Grissom was careful about not pairing her with Warrick, but that was fine with Catherine.

Their typical day went like this: Warrick would work from midnight to eight, and Catherine would work from eight until four. By the time Catherine came home, Warrick was awake and cooking dinner. Once they ate, they would spend the evening together, watching the news, then Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. They frequently competed in each game against one another; Catherine was better at Jeopardy while Warrick frequently solved the puzzles of Wheel much faster then Catherine.

Warrick then would usually nap while Catherine quietly worked on paperwork or read. Catherine would make sure that he was up in time for work, and would shortly go to sleep herself in order to be up early for her day shift.

The other reason she switched was so Catherine could spend more time with Lindsey once she came back from the boot camp. When Lindsey would be getting home from school, she would be getting off of work. That would leave them time to talk about their days or whatever they wanted to do, or at least Catherine hoped that would be the case. Apparently the camp she was attending was a good one with a high success rate, but Catherine did not want to push Lindsey or cause her to be upset or angry. She hated the fights that the two of them had endured before Lindsey snapped and physically struck her, and prayed that they would never fight like that again.

She took a deep breath, her heart fluttering slightly when she remembered that Lindsey would be coming home from the camp in about two hours. Jim had offered to pick her up and bring her home. Catherine prayed that it had changed Lindsey's outlook on life, and that she wouldn't relapse into the teen that she had been before. She also prayed that Lindsey would take well to her new relationship with Warrick. She had taken well to Catherine's colleagues, but she and Warrick seemed to have a special bond. Catherine really hoped that her new level with him wouldn't damage the bond that her boyfriend and daughter had.

"You with me, Cath?" Warrick joked gently, breaking her from her thoughts. "You never answered my question and you have that far away look in your eyes when you're daydreaming."

"I…uh, sorry, Rick," Catherine stammered. "I just got to thinking."

"About what?"

"Us…life…Lindsey," Catherine answered with a shrug, sauntering up to Warrick and peeking into the pot. She smiled to herself when she saw that Warrick was boiling elbow macaroni so he could make his special macaroni and cheese. He certainly knew the two Willows women; that was one of their favorite food.

"You nervous about her coming home?" Warrick asked, gently shooing Catherine away when she picked up the spoon to give the macaroni a stir.

She abandoned the spoon, sighing softly as she made her way to the kitchen table, settling down in one of the high-backed wooden chairs. Catherine glanced at her feet, laughing slightly to herself as she looked at her new low heeled shoes. She was shocked that she actually had gone shoe shopping a few weeks back, but her aching knees and feet certainly appreciated the effort she was making in order to salvage the joints and limbs. She hated how short she felt compared to the other CSI's and criminals, but sometimes you had to give up fashion for the sake of health.

Plus, she loved how perfectly she fit into Warrick's side when they were walking arm in arm down the strip, or wherever they were.

Seeing that Warrick was about to call her out for spacing out again, Catherine quickly admitted, "I'm a little nervous, yes. I just...I can't help but wonder or think that maybe it didn't work, or that Lindsey-"

She hesitated, surprised when tears welled up in her eyes. She quickly dug the heel of her palm into her eyes to stop the tears, jumping slightly when she looked up and saw Warrick standing in front of her. They locked gazes for several moments before Catherine finally shook her head. "I'm scared," she finally breathed out, a tear slipping down her cheek.

He kneeled in front of her, taking her face in his hands and wiping the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. "What are you scared of, baby?" he asked gently.

"I…I'm scared," she hiccupped, cursing herself for losing control, "I'm scared that the camp didn't work, and that Lindsey will turn into Eddie and will use me as a punching bag."

The words were rushed and jumbled together, but Warrick heard what she said. He slid his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her to him, kissing Catherine on the forehead. "I'm not going to let that happen," he whispered, placing his forehead against hers. "No one will ever hurt you again as long as I'm here."

Catherine nodded, closing her eyes as she rested her forehead against Warrick's. "God, Rick, I love you so much," she finally whispered.

She opened her eyes to meet emotional green pools that stared back at her. It was the first time that Catherine had said those words to him, and his heart pounded as he huskily answered her.

"I love you too."

Their lips met in a passionate kiss, and Catherine moaned slightly as Warrick's lips found her neck. Her nails dug into his skin despite the t-shirt that he wore, and it took all her willpower not to tear his shirt off.

"We can't do this here," Catherine breathed, nevertheless allowing Warrick to lift her, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Warrick responded by wrapping his arms around her lower back, pulling the strawberry blonde closer to him.

"Why not?" Warrick asked, crashing his lips against hers to muffle a response.

Catherine kissed him back passionately, running a hand through his curls. She broke the kiss, and said, "First of all, the stove is running."

"I can fix that," Warrick answered, crushing his lips to hers once again as he backed up to the stove and blindly turned the knobs until they shut off. "What else?"

"I don't want our first time to be in the middle of my kitchen," Catherine answered.

Warrick laughed against her lips, parting briefly so that he could tug her tank top off. "Would you settle for the couch?" he asked, letting the garment fall to the floor, working her bra seconds later.

"That's fine," Catherine all but gasped as his lips trailed kisses up her bare chest before finding her neck. Desperately, she clawed at his shirt, pulling the garment up and over his head despite the closeness of their bodies.

Warrick sat her on the couch, kneeling in front of Catherine, taking a moment to look deep into his lover's eyes. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked gently, kissing her hand.

"I've been ready for this for seven years, Rick," Catherine answered, wrapping her arms around his neck again. "Please don't make me wait any longer."

And with that, his resolve crumbled, and he hungrily kissed her.

~/~

Two hours later, the duo laid on the couch, their naked bodies pressed together as they dozed lightly after their intense lovemaking. Catherine buried her face into Warrick's shoulder, sighing happily.

She felt his arms respond, squeezing her midsection lightly. His legs wrapped around hers, enjoying the feel of her slight weight on top of him.

"You're amazing, Catherine," Warrick whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"You think that was amazing, wait until round two," Catherine chuckled, her breath tickling his chest. "You're not so shabby yourself!"

Warrick opened his mouth to answer, only to freeze when he heard a voice.

"Hello, is anybody home?" Catherine jumped slightly at Brass' playful question as it was called through the window, pulling away from Warrick.

"Shit," she uttered, searching desperately for her clothes. Warrick scrambled to his feet to do the same, tugging on his boxers and pants as Catherine struggled to fix her bra.

"Hello?" Brass called, tugging on the knob, which was thankfully locked.

"Hang on one second, Jim," Catherine called, hoping that she didn't sound too out of breath. She found her panties on the floor, then glared at Warrick when she saw that they were ripped along the side.

"Sorry," he mouthed sheepishly, though he held a devilish smirk on his face.

Catherine muttered under her breath, shoving the torn panties under the couch and praying that she didn't forget about them. Shuddering, she pulled her dress pants on without her underwear. That was the last thing that she wanted to do, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She thanked God that they weren't that tight and that her daughter and Brass wouldn't be able to tell she wasn't wearing underwear – hopefully.

Taking a deep breath and making sure that Warrick was decent, Catherine opened the door to reveal Brass and Lindsey standing there. "Sorry, guys," Catherine said, looking between the duo that was standing at her door. "I had to, uh…" she trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

"Straighten up a little?" Brass suggested, though the sly smirk on his lips indicated that he knew exactly what Warrick and Catherine had just done. He set Lindsey's bag just inside the door, allowing Lindsey to step in the house first.

Catherine flushed, and she didn't dare look at Warrick as she nodded. "Yeah, just had to put a few things away," she clarified. Catherine glanced at Lindsey, smiling hesitantly. "How are you, honey?"

"Fine," Lindsey answered somewhat shyly, shame written on her face still despite the fact that the accident had happened about a month ago. "I'm sorry!" the younger Willows finally blurted out.

"Hey," Catherine said softly, placing a hand on Lindsey's shoulder. "There's no need for apologies anymore. What happened is in the past and I've forgiven you."

Lindsey nodded, throwing her arms around Catherine's waist. She reeled slightly before returning the hug to Lindsey. The two women held each other tightly before Lindsey finally pulled away.

She sniffled, looking at Warrick. "Hey, Warrick," she said softly. "What are you doing here?"

Warrick glanced at Catherine, searching her face as he decided how to answer Lindsey. She nodded slightly, indicating that he should tell her the truth. Catherine had decided that in order to not strain her relationship with Lindsey anymore, she would be as honest as possible.

"Well, Lindsey," Warrick cleared his throat, then continued. "A lot has happened in the last month."

"Like what?" Lindsey asked wearily.

"We, ah…" Catherine trailed off, reaching her hand out to take Warrick's. "We started dating," she finally admitted.

Lindsey glanced between the two adults, wiping her eyebrow. "It's about time," her daughter finally said.

Catherine, Warrick, and Jim laughed, relief evident across their faces as they took in the look on Lindsey's face. She didn't look angry or upset; if anything, she looked happy for her mother to have finally found someone.

"There's something else," Catherine said.

"What?" Lindsey asked, a wary look on her face as she looked at her mother. "Please don't tell me that you're pregnant or something like that."

At the shocked look on Catherine's face, Brass burst out laughing. "Alright, guys, I think that this is the point where I leave," he chuckled. "I need some sleep before work tonight."

"Okay, thanks Jim," Catherine said, hugging the detective before stepping aside to allow Warrick to shake his hand. "I owe you."

He knew that the last part of her statement held more than just Jim bringing Lindsey back from the boot camp, but nevertheless he shrugged. "No problem, Catherine," he answered. He turned and ruffled Lindsey's hair, smiling at the indignant look on the teenager's face at the action. Lindsey's behavior and attitude may have been adjusted, but she was a teenager at heart. "Stay out of trouble, kiddo?" Jim requested.

"Yes, Uncle Jim," Lindsey answered, hugging him around the waist. "Thank you for the ride."

Jim nodded, smiling at Catherine and Warrick for a moment and then leaving the house.

Catherine, Lindsey, and Warrick stood awkwardly for a moment before Lindsey finally spoke up. "What were you going to tell me, mom?" she asked. Seeing the surprised look on Catherine's face, she asked horrified, "You aren't pregnant, are-"

"No, baby, I'm not pregnant," Catherine laughed slightly. "What I wanted to tell you isn't even that serious, honey."

"What then?"

She glanced at Warrick, then said, "About three and a half weeks ago, I transferred to the day shift."

Lindsey blinked, though if she was surprised she quickly hid it. "Why?" she asked her mother. "You love the grave shift-"

"But I love you more," Catherine said softly. "I did this so that we could spend more time together."

Lindsey glanced at Warrick, then at Catherine. "Are you two going to get married?" she asked.

"I…don't know, Lindsey," Catherine admitted. "We just started dating, and we want to make sure that you are comfortable before we take certain steps in our relationship."

"Like what?"

"Well, first of all, will it bother you if Warrick were to stay here with us?" Catherine asked, squeezing her boyfriend's hand nervously.

Lindsey swallowed slightly, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "You do realize that no one will ever replace my father, don't you?" she asked carefully.

Catherine bit back a sob, then nodded. "Yes, but I…" she hesitated, then looked her daughter right in the eye. "I love Warrick."

"I know you do, mom. I just need to get used to things, I think." Lindsey smiled weakly at Catherine and Warrick. "Look…there will be plenty of time to discuss things, right?" At Catherine's nod, Lindsey finished, "So can we talk about this later? I'm tired, hungry, and I want to tell you about the last month."

Catherine nodded, opening her arms. "I love you Lindsey, no matter what," she whispered into her daughter's ear once she hugged her tightly. "Don't forget that, okay?"

"I won't, mom," Lindsey replied. She squeezed her mom's waist, then stepped back. "What's for dinner?"

Catherine glanced sheepishly at Warrick, then said, "Take out. What do you want?"

"Pizza!" Lindsey replied. "Man, the food at that boot camp sucked!"

Catherine couldn't help the laugh that escaped with her daughter's dramatics. She squeezed Lindsey's shoulder, then guided her toward the kitchen to find the pizza shop menu.

Everything was going to be alright.

~/~

Back in LaVerne, California, a woman in her lower forties opened the mailbox. There was a manila envelope in the box, and she briefly wondered what it was. There was no return address on the upper left corner of the envelope, and the handwriting was unfamiliar on the address.

She frowned, tucking the rest of the mail back in the mailbox for a moment. She carefully tore open the seal, raising her eyebrows when she saw that there was a newspaper article inside with a plain sheet of white paper. The woman pulled the white paper out first, reading the unsigned message quickly.

"'I thought that you might appreciate this. Pay attention to the fifth paragraph,'" she read aloud.

Curious, she pulled the article out of the envelope. There were two pieces of newspaper stapled together, one long and thin, and the other short and wide. Her eyes scanned the article before she found the fifth paragraph, shock filling her as she took in the words.

For the first time in eight years, a real smile graced Gina Helgen's face.

_While I do admit that I have purposely slandered many women, there is one woman that I owe a direct apology to besides Catherine Willows. In August of 1999, I met a woman at an LVU Fundraiser. I attempted to get information that I knew was privileged out of Gina Helgen, and when Ms. Helgen refused to answer my questions, I became angered and ran a false story about her having a romantic affair with a student. There was no basis for these accusations, as Ms. Helgen was a respected and dedicated teacher at LVU. I owe Ms. Helgen a huge apology. There was no affair, and I can only pray that this will finally clear her name._

Gina bounded into her home, calling, "Honey?" She found her boyfriend at the dinner table, reading the paper. She smiled at him, sauntering over to him and kissing him on the lips as hard as she could.

Her boyfriend looked surprised, but nevertheless, he kissed her back. "What was that for?" he asked.

"Nothing, really," Gina replied. "I just feel like celebrating."

"Celebrating what?"

"Life."

~/~

End 15/15

Thanks again, and please let me know what you think!!!


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